


(i think) there's a flaw in my code

by youmeandem



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youmeandem/pseuds/youmeandem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camila wins a radio contest and gets to spend a week with the world's newest rising popstar: Lauren Jauregui.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. day 1

Camila is shaking. She doesn’t mean to be, she just can’t stop. Her fingers tap along to the beat of the song that’s playing on her iPod, and she softly sings the lyrics.

She isn’t sure whether she’s excited or nervous. It’s probably both.

And, also, she’s never really been on a plane before. Part of her excitement stems from that. The rest is just because—oh god, she’s going to meet Lauren Jauregui in less than an hour. _Actually_ meeting her. With words and hugs and—

Camila forces herself to think about something else before she jumps out of her seat. Which wouldn’t be a good idea because the plane is already descending and the ‘fasten your seatbelt’ light is on.

But seriously. She’s meeting Lauren Jauregui.

As in upcoming rising star Lauren Jauregui. As in double platinum Lauren Jauregui. As in number one in the Billboard Top 100 Lauren Jauregui. As in Camila’s idol for years Lauren Jauregui.

She’s still somewhat convinced something went wrong, that she’s not the one that’s supposed to be on this airplane right now. Things like this never happen to her. She’s always just that weird girl who sits behind her computer for hours editing videos and pictures and talking to other fans.

Then again, how many Camila Cabellos can there be? And how many of them are from Miami? And how many are sort of hopelessly not-really-but-still-sort-of in love with Lauren Jauregui?

Camila looks out the window, catching sight of the Hollywood sign, and her heart jumps. This is really happening. Luck is _finally_ on her side.

A warm, fuzzy feeling spreads through her stomach as she clamps onto the armrests of her seat and leans her head against the cold window. Somewhere down below, in that city, Lauren’s waiting for her. She can’t really help the smile that tugs her lips at the thought.

Camila watches the buildings get bigger and bigger until, quite suddenly, they’re on the landing strip. The pilot hits the breaks and Camila feels her seatbelt digging into her stomach. It only lasts a minute.

She’s in LA. For the first time in her life she’s in the City of Angels, where celebrities live and plastic surgery is a birthday present. There are lots of first times today. First time on a plane, first time travelling alone, first time meeting her idol…

The pilot welcomes them to LAX, and says some mundane things about the temperature and the local time. Camila barely pays attention to any of it, nervous butterflies fluttering around in her stomach.

As the plane gets hooked to a jet bridge and the doors open, Camila follows the crowd. She has no idea where to go, and these people seem to know what they’re doing.

They lead her through customs and to the baggage claim, where the last people from the previous plane are just wrapping up. Some look lost, without any stuff, and Camila feels bad for them. She watches a family with a kid dressed completely in pink talk to someone in an airport uniform while she waits for her own luggage to arrive. Just when the father starts getting red in the face the belt starts rolling again, and Camila jumps up, eager to grab her stuff and go.

Naturally her suitcase comes last.

By the time she finally has all her things, the family has left and so has pretty much everyone else from her plane.

She ponders asking someone where to go, but then an exit sign catches her eye and she somehow manages to get out.

It’s busy in the arrival halls. People are everywhere and there’s police and tourists in ridiculous outfits and business people and airplane staff and for a second Camila’s so overwhelmed she just stands and stares.

Until she sees someone holding up a sign that says, ‘Camila Cabello.’

Someone that isn’t Lauren, unfortunately. But she didn’t really expect Lauren to be there. The airport would probably be overcrowded with fans if she was.

“Uh, hi. I’m Camila Cabello,” Camila says, pointing to the sign.

The woman holding it up looks at her. “Can you prove that? We’ve already had three Camila Cabellos coming up to us.”

Of course. News travels fast in the fandom.

Camila pulls out her wallet and takes out her ID. She hands it to the woman and looks around, still hoping to spot Lauren somewhere.

“Alright, this looks legit.” The woman’s actually smiling now. “Welcome to LA, Camila. My name is Briana and I’m part of Lauren’s management team. You’ll be seeing a lot of me, since I’m in charge of the contest and its organization, so if you have any questions feel free to ask them.”

Briana hands her a card with her information on it, and Camila puts it in her wallet with her ID. She likes Briana now that she’s not looking at her like she’s trying to murder Lauren anymore.

“I do have a question, actually,” Camila blurts out, and then, before she can change her mind, “Is Lauren here?”

“No. We’ll meet her at her house later, but first we have some rules and other things to go over. After all, this contest isn’t just for your benefit but for ours and especially Lauren’s, too.”

Right. Camila probably should’ve expected that. Nothing happens for free anymore.

“Rules?”

Briana nods, guiding Camila through the crowd towards the exit. “They’re pretty straight forward, but still very important. You’ll have to sign a contract, though, because you’re going to see some things that aren’t supposed to be seen yet. Not by fans, anyway.”

And, just like that, Camila forgets about everything else. She’s going to see new things. Lauren is going to bring out new things and Camila will see them before anyone else. That realization is enough to get her heart beating faster again.

Once they’re outside, a large man approaches them and offers to carry Camila’s things. She recognizes him as Lauren’s body guard, so she hands him her suitcase. If he can keep Lauren safe, he’ll be able to handle a suitcase.

They climb into a black van with blinded windows, and for a second Camila hopes that Lauren’s inside—she’s not, obviously. Briana made that very clear.

“Okay, I have your contract here,” Briana says, handing Camila a few sheets that are stapled together, and a pen. “Take your time reading through everything and then sign your name on the first page.”

Despite the blinded windows, it’s still bright enough inside the van for Camila to read the contract. There are already two signatures. One is probably Briana’s, and the other one she recognizes immediately—Lauren’s.

She’s never really signed a contract before, and knowing that her first one is going to be on the same piece of paper that also has Lauren’s signature on it makes it extra special.

The rules are, like Briana said, fairly simple. It’s basically that she’s not allowed to record anything that happens the upcoming week, nor will she be allowed to talk about any unreleased content she’ll be seeing. Which is okay, because a camera crew will be following them around during the day, and at the end of it she’s supposed to give a brief overview of her stay so far on camera so that the footage can be turned into video diaries. She can still use her phone and social media, as long as she doesn’t give any details of their whereabouts and she’s certainly not allowed to share any personal information about Lauren with anybody—especially not the press and fandom.

In other words, she has to protect Lauren’s privacy.

She signs the contract without a second thought. None of it is alarming or just straight up weird, and she _really_ wants to spend the next week by Lauren’s side.

“Great,” Briana says when Camila gives back the contract. “Now we’ll be going to the office to touch you up for the cameras, and then you’ll be introduced to the most important people in this whole thing. After all that’s over we’ll go over to Lauren’s house and shoot a short video of the two of you together.”

Camila doesn’t really hear anything except for the part where she was going to be in Lauren’s house with Lauren.

The rest of the ride was quiet, and Camila plugs in her earphones again. The past two days she hasn’t really been able to listen to anything other than Lauren’s debut album, and now that she’s so close to actually meeting Lauren she’s almost forgotten any other music exists.

It’s lame, but she has her hardcopy of the album in her suitcase, safely rolled up in a few shirts, for Lauren to sign. It’s especially lame because she’s going to get to know this person, and after spending a week with her a signature probably won’t matter. Maybe she’ll even have her phone number. That’d really be—

“We’re here,” Briana says, interrupting Camila’s thoughts.

They climb out of the van and she immediately feels the Californian heat. Somehow it’s different from Miami weather, though she’s can’t put her finger on why.

Rob, Lauren’s bodyguard, shadows them all the way inside the building, where the AC is cranked up as high as possible.

Not really knowing what else to do, Camila follows Briana into an elevator and hold the doors open for Rob. When it’s just the three of them, the seriousness of the situation starts to dawn on her.

All the people in this elevator already know Lauren. This isn’t a dream to them, it’s their job. Something they consider mundane and possibly complain about to their family on their day off. Something Camila can’t imagine ever making sense to her.

Meeting Lauren is the ultimate dream for her. Spending enough time with her to actually get to know her is even more surreal. She doesn’t really know what to feel—it’s so overwhelming. She kind of feels everything.

Part of her wonders whether she’ll be good enough for Lauren. Part of her is trying not to act too weird. Most of her is just freaking out at the fact that this is happening to her. Out of everyone that called they picked her. She’s still not sure this is actually happening.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” she blurts out, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She looks so normal. Just Camila. There’s literally nothing special about her, and yet she’s standing here.

“You’re not dreaming,” Rob says with a smile. He pats her shoulder. She definitely feels that. Somehow he’s more patient than Briana. Maybe it’s because he deals with people like Camila on a daily basis.

She swallows. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He’s nicer in person than in people’s videos.

The elevator stops on the fourth floor.

Briana leads them all to a room where multiple people have already gathered. They introduce themselves as makeup artists and hair dressers and stylists and camera crew people. After the second person, Camila’s head is spinning and she’s already forgotten the name of the first.

It doesn’t really matter. They know her name and they know what to do.

For the next hour or so they tell her, “Look up, honey. Great, now look down,” and, “Spin around to show me the back? Thanks girl,” and, “Are you sure you don’t want your hair a few shades darker? Okay, okay, I won’t touch it, no worries.”

At some point she tunes them out and just goes with everything they tell her. Except the hair. She isn't going to let anyone color her hair.

When she looks in the mirror after what feels like forever, she doesn’t really look like herself anymore. The person staring back at her look to be a couple years older, and way more sophisticated. It’s not necessarily bad or uncomfortable, just…different.

“Are you ready?” Briana asks, pointing at the cameras behind them.

Camila wants to shake her head and say, _No_ , but it comes out as, “Yeah, I think so.”

Her life has already been turned upside down and she hasn’t even met the reason yet.

“Just tell us something about yourself, how you got here and what you’re most excited about,” the main cameraman says.

He calls action and Camila’s left staring into the lens. It’s so big she can see herself.

“Uh, hi guys. My name is Camila Cabello, I’m eighteen years old, and I’m from Miami, Florida. Last week my best friend, hi Dinah, told me about a radio contest that gave people the opportunity to meet and spend a week with Lauren Jauregui, and that I _had_ to call otherwise she would do it for me. I didn’t really think I had a chance, but here I am. I guess what I mean is; don’t ever give up on your dreams because you never know when you’re going to get a midnight call from a radio station telling you you’re going to spend seven days with your idol.” She makes an odd hand gesture and smiles through her nerves.

Talking to a camera is hard.

When the red light dims, she bites her lip. “Was that okay?”

The cameraman, whose name Camila now remembers to be Gregg, nods without much enthusiasm. “The last part was great. Fans love inspirational quotes.”

Briana claps her hands, as if they just invented light. “Great! Now we’re all ready to meet Lauren.”

But Camila’s isn’t so sure she’s ready to meet Lauren.

Yes, this is what she’s dreamed about forever, but what if she makes a fool out of herself? She can totally see herself pulling a Jennifer Lawrence and tripping on her way to hug Lauren, and instead of gracefully gathering herself she’d probably smash her face against the pavement and walk around like someone who had too much plastic surgery for the rest of the week.

She’s not ready.

But no one cares. Like Briana said, this isn’t about Camila; it’s about the company and Lauren.

She tries not to make a big deal out of it. After all, it’s her big dream.

 

By the time the van pulls over in front of Lauren’s house, Camila’s already forgotten about it. Her stomach is one big blurb of butterflies and she’s not sure her brain is actually still working. Her lungs definitely aren’t.

“What are you feeling right now?” Gregg asks, pointing at the camera so Camila won’t look at him but at the lens.

“Everything,” Camila blurts out, for once not caring about how she’ll look on camera.

In less than a minute she’ll be hugging Lauren.

The car door opens and Camila and the cameras pour out, and for the first time Camila knows what it’s like to be standing in front of Lauren Jauregui’s house.

It’s large, though not as large as some of the neighboring houses. The walls are white with a few large windows, one of which works like a mirror. The front porch looks empty and unused.

Camila’s not sure what to think of it. It’s definitely not like she expected, but she doesn’t know whether that’s good or bad. It’s just different.

She forgets all about the cameras that are following her every move she makes, her full attention on the house in front of her. Lauren’s inside that house.

She doesn’t need to tell her legs to start walking—they just do. She doesn’t even realize it until she’s raising her hand to ring the doorbell.

She’s shaking all over her body. It makes pressing a button a lot harder than it’s supposed to be.

There’s a part of her that wants to run away and hide, and a part that wants to jump through the window and not have at least half a dozen people watching her meet her idol for the first time.

Someone—Lauren!—unlocks the door from the other side.

Her heart is beating in her throat.

And then the door swings open. Lauren’s dressed in black jeans and a black 1975 shirt, and for a split second, right before Camila loses her shit and throws her arms around the girl, there’s an unreadable expression on her face.

“Oh my god,” Camila breathes, unable to keep herself from hugging Lauren. A voice in the back of her head yells at her for forgetting about manners and introductions and handshakes, but she just can’t help it.

Lauren smells like cigarettes and lavender, her body stiff at first until it relaxes and hugs her back. Camila buries her face in her shoulder, closing her eyes. It’s like they’re made for each other.

The hug lasts a few moments, just long enough for Lauren to start pulling back, and for Camila to remember she doesn’t actually know this person.

Tugging a strand of hair behind her ear, she looks at Lauren shyly. “Hi, I’m Camila. Sorry for attacking you.”

“It’s okay.” Lauren doesn’t introduce herself—it’s unnecessary. They all know who she is.

“No, really. Usually I’m more put-together. I mean, not really, but you know what I mean. Do you? Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m just—I’m really nervous. I never met someone famous before and I’ve been a fan for a—” She stops, suddenly remembering the cameras and Briana and—oh god—Lauren. “Anyway… sorry.”

Lauren smiles. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.”

She looks behind Camila, flashing the cameras a smile, before taking a few steps backwards. With a simple hand gesture she invites Camila to come inside.

On the inside, Lauren’s house is simple. The main colors are black and white, and it’s about as impersonal as it gets. There isn’t really a hallway—instead they’re just in what looks like a spare space surrounded by half walls with black trims on top. From where Camila’s standing, she can see a bar and kitchen on her right, and a living space with three large bookcases on her left. And really, those are the only things that make the house looks like someone’s living here.

Camila turns around to look at Lauren, who’s still on the front porch talking to Briana in a hushed voice. She looks annoyed.

Camila bites her lip. She’s done it again. She scared Lauren off. She shouldn’t have been that straightforward. All her life she’s told everyone that if she were to ever meet her idol she’d stay calm and be polite and have a conversation instead of hug them without asking. But she had to lose control and mess up the one thing she can’t take back; Lauren’s first impression of her.

She really wants to cry right now.

Lauren and Briana and the cameras walk into the house. Lauren looks less annoyed now, but Camila can’t tell if her smile is fake or not.

“Camila, right?” Lauren pronounces her name right on the first try. Maybe she still has a chance.

“Yeah. I’m really sorry about before. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that.” Camila looks down to the ground, not meeting Lauren’s beautiful bright green eyes.

“Like I said, it’s okay. I’ve had worse happen to me.” Lauren’s voice makes Camila’s insides turn into mush.

“Okay,” Camila says, reminding herself not to say that too much so she won’t sound like a John Green novel. She looks around Lauren’s house. “I like your place.” No, she doesn’t. It’s too impersonal, too detached.

This time Camila can tell Lauren’s smile is forced. “Thanks.”

“You have a lot of books,” Camila says, to prevent an awkward silence from happening. This isn’t going like she planned. At all.

In her imagination they’d hit off great and talk and talk and talk until they fell asleep and when they woke up they’d talk even more. Instead she gets semi-awkward silences and cameras shoved in their faces.

“I like to read.” Lauren’s reply is cold, like her smile.

For a moment, Camila wonders whether Lauren even willingly agreed to have a random stranger live in her house for a week. Then they’re distracted by Briana.

“How about you give Camila a tour of the house?”

Lauren nods. “Sure.”

She points at something behind Camila’s back, breezing past her. Their arms brush and Camila freezes, goosebumps all over her skin. But Lauren seems unfazed and walks straight into an open area. She hits the light switch and spotlights flicker on, lighting the place with different colors.

“This is kind of a party area,” Lauren explains, gesturing around her. There’s a bar and a large TV and even a piano. It’s almost a small club.

“It’s where I hang out with my friends and stuff. _Of course_ the bar doesn’t have any alcohol and it’s mostly for show. Until I turn twenty-one, then there will be alcohol.” She looks straight into the camera as she speaks, and Camila can see bottles of liquor stacked behind the bar.

 _Of course_.

She cracks an unwilling grin. Lauren catches her eye and for a second she smiles back—a genuine smile this time. It makes Camila’s heart flutter.

“Over there’s the kitchen,” Lauren continues, waving her hand to her right. “It’s not really interesting, although I do have some nice knives.”

She’s clearly mocking the cameras and Camila wonders how much of this content will make it into the video diaries. Maybe Lauren’s doing it on purpose for exactly that reason.

“Lauren,” Briana says in a stern voice, causing Lauren’s head to snap up. Camila expects her to retaliate, but instead something changes in her eyes and she looks down.

“Anyway,” she continues, in a much softer tone. “Like I said, it’s just a kitchen. You’ll probably be seeing a lot of it, since I have all the food there.”

She moves past Camila, their arms don’t brush this time.

Camila isn’t quite sure what’s going on. Lauren isn’t like she expected. Something’s off, but she can’t put her finger on it. This isn’t the Lauren she’s used to seeing in interviews and behind-the-scenes videos of photoshoots and music videos.

But before she can address her concerns, Lauren’s already on her way to the other side of the house, past the large staircase. She gestures at the corner on their left. “This is the living room, where I play video games and read books.”

A messy stack of books is on the coffee table, along with an even messier stack of video games. Camila notices GTA V amidst them. She wonders if Lauren will let her play.

“But on this side the magic happens,” Lauren says, and she pushes open a large, glass door. Camila holds it open for everyone else, but Briana nods her head to tell her she has to follow Lauren.

Inside the room is a recording studio. Maybe Camila should’ve expected it, considering Lauren is a musician and all, but for some reason she didn’t. On their side of the glass is a computer and a control panel, on the other side are instruments and two microphones. It looks exactly the way Camila imagined a recording studio would look like.

Lauren’s behind the computer, opening a music program. She looks better inside the studio. More relaxed. More alive.

“I have a snippet of a new song that I’ve been working on,” Lauren says, right before music starts booming from the speakers. There’s a guitar solo and then a few seconds of Lauren’s voice, raw and loud, before the snippet’s over.

It’s unlike Lauren’s other stuff, and Camila loves it immediately. It’s not the preppy pop music she’s used to, though there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, but a little more rock and a little more indie. It sounds the way Lauren dresses.

“That’s amazing,” Camila says, earning a shy smile. “Can I pre-order it on iTunes yet?”

Lauren laughs, and it’s the best sound Camila has heard all day. Even better than the music.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lauren promises. She looks at Camila, and for the first time _really_ looks at her. Their eyes lock and Camila forgets all about the cameras and Briana and Lauren acting weird. In that moment it’s just them.

The moment is over before either of them can do anything, like hug.

“Don’t put that in the video,” Briana tells Gregg in an obnoxious loud voice. “We haven’t discussed the new album yet and we’re not sure if this song will make it.”

Lauren’s face falls, her smile disappearing to make place for that empty look from before. She glances from Camila to Briana and back at Camila. When she speaks again, her voice is even smaller than before. “I guess no pre-orders yet.”

And Camila really wants to punch Briana in the face. Whatever’s happening here, it’s her fault. She’s not the violent type, she’s really not, but there’s just something about the way Lauren almost literally curls up into a ball every time Briana lets words fall out of her mouth that makes her angrier than anything else.

She reaches out to touch Lauren’s arm, in a way of comforting her, but Lauren pulls away and stomps out the studio.

Camila and the cameramen stand there sort of awkwardly as Briana follows her, and Gregg stops recording. None of them says a word, trying to pretend none of that ever happened. But it did, and suddenly Camila feels like she knows why Lauren’s been acting so detached.

 

Camila watches as the van takes off with Briana and the cameras in it. As soon as they turn the corner, she lets out a relieved breath and goes back inside.

They’ve been here for nearly three hours, and the whole time was filled with stupid interview questions and house tours and Briana shooting Lauren warning glares that made Lauren retreat even more every time. Eventually it got so bad Gregg said they wanted an interview with Camila without Lauren, to talk about first impressions and stuff. Lauren disappeared immediately.

Now that everyone’s gone, though, Camila wants to talk. She’s only seen Lauren for a really short time and they haven’t been able to chat at all, except from whenever Briana told them to pretend they were having a great time already, and that doesn’t count. None of that was genuine and real.

Unfortunately Camila has no idea where Lauren could be. Her house is massive and she has only seen part of it so far, including the bedroom she’ll be staying in for the next week. Like the rest of the house it’s filled with black furniture, and even the bed is made with black covers. Hopefully Lauren has some colorful things in this house, too, otherwise it’ll be a very depressing week.

“Lauren?” Camila calls out, knowing she probably won’t be heard.

No reply.

The last time she saw Lauren she was stomping up the stairs, and Camila’s pretty sure she hasn’t come down yet. So she climbs the large—black—stairs and is lost immediately. She opens every door she can find, ending up in what looks like an office space, and her own bedroom again. But Lauren isn’t there.

She crosses the hallway and opens another door—the only one she hasn’t been in yet. Inside it she finds color, lots of it. The bed is red, the rug is red, even the wardrobe is red. And, just like that, Camila realizes she’s found Lauren’s bedroom. But Lauren isn’t in it.

She’s inclined to stay and snoop around, but she’s pretty sure Lauren wouldn’t appreciate that and she doesn’t plan on being kicked out of the contest on the first day. Not when there’s so much left to do and so much left to talk about.

If only she could find Lauren.

She closes Lauren’s bedroom door and hopes Lauren won’t know she’s been in there. There’s only one other door left, and it leads outside. It’s large and made of glass and heavy to push open, but Camila manages to slip outside, expecting to find a roof but is met with a terrace instead. There are sunbeds and parasols and—holy shit—a hot tub. But Lauren isn’t there either.

Camila walks past a barbecue and an enormously long table with at least eight seats, hoping to find Lauren around the corner. When the terrace doesn’t end there, she decides to walk around the house until she finds Lauren, knowing she has to be somewhere up here.

She is. After climbing another flight of stairs and almost falling into a pool—seriously, who the fuck has a pool on their roof?—she spots Lauren on the rooftop with a cigarette dangling in the corner of her mouth.

“I thought you were afraid of heights,” Camila says, carefully climbing next to Lauren.

“I am,” Lauren replies without looking up. Her voice is cold and distant, like her eyes. She doesn’t say anything else for a while, and neither does Camila, until Lauren holds her pack of cigarettes in front of Camila’s face. “Cigarette?”

Camila shakes her head. “I don’t smoke.”

Lauren almost smiles. “Good.” She flicks the ash off her butt and sticks it back between her lips.

Camila doesn’t say anything. And instead of studying Lauren’s face like she so desperately wants to, she looks anywhere but there. She looks at the palm trees and the other houses in the neighborhood, at the expensive cars and the already dimly lit street lanterns.

Eventually, one cigarette and lots of silence later, Lauren looks at her. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” Camila says, looking back. It’s getting dark. She can see the sun setting behind Lauren, giving her an angelic look.

“No, I mean, why are you here? At my house.” Lauren looks away, lights another cigarette. Camila wishes she hadn’t.

“I won the contest.” Camila isn’t sure why Lauren’s even asking her. Obviously she won the contest. “There was a radio contest and I called the station and they called me back a few days later saying I’d won.” She doesn’t know what else to say.

Maybe Lauren doesn’t know either, because she’s quiet again. Camila isn’t sure Lauren even wants her on the roof with her, but she hasn’t made any attempts to make her leave, so she stays. She wants Lauren to know that she’s there for her. Even if they only met a couple hours ago, she’s there for her. Even if she doesn’t know the full story, she’s there for her.

Without saying a word, Lauren pushes the pack of cigarettes in the back pocket of her jeans and starts climbing past Camila, back to safety. Once she’s on the wooden flooring surrounding the pool again, she throws out the half burnt up cigarette, and starts making her way downstairs.

“Hey,” Camila says, stopping Lauren. She climbs off the roof. “Where are you going?”

“Out.” Lauren doesn’t meet her eyes. “There’s a party and I’m going.”

Camila frowns. “What kind of party?”

“The kind you’re not invited to.” Lauren takes another step, but Camila’s voice holds her back.

“If you’re leaving then what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t really give a shit,” Lauren shoots back. “There’s plenty of ways to entertain yourself around here. Go figure something out.”

Camila follows her as she walks down the stairs, back to the large, glass door. “You can’t just leave me here alone. I’m your guest, you owe—” And then she stops.

Lauren doesn’t owe her anything. Lauren probably doesn’t even want her here. Just because she’s been nice to her doesn’t mean Lauren _has_ to be nice back. Camila isn’t even sure if she can even _be_ nice anymore. The Lauren standing in front of her is nothing like the Lauren she admires so much.

Lauren looks at her with raised eyebrows, waiting for her to say something. But Camila shakes her head. “Have fun at your party.”

“Right,” Lauren says. Neither of them moves for a moment, until finally Lauren unfreezes and disappears through her bedroom door.

Camila watches the door for a moment, hoping Lauren will come back. But instead the speakers that are hung all over the house turn on, and loud music that Camila doesn’t recognize booms through the entire house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've read until here, thank you! let me know what you think and if you like it, please take time to leave kudos.


	2. day 2

It’s 4 AM when Camila wakes up in the most uncomfortable position she’s ever been in. One of those positions that make her wonder what the fuck her body does while she’s asleep.

It takes her a few moments to remember where she is again—in Lauren Jauregui’s living room, on the couch that looks more comfortable than it is after a few hours of balancing on the edge.

It takes her another few to realize why she woke up.

Lauren’s home.

And loud. Really loud.

She’s stumbling and tripping and cursing and singing all at the same time. She leans against the door when she takes her jacket off, attempts to put it on the coat rack but fails miserably due to messed up hand-eye coordination from obvious intoxication.

Camila jumps up to help her, picking the jacket up from the ground and putting it up. Lauren looks at her like she’s seen a ghost.

“Do you even remember—” Camila closes her eyes for a moment, gathering all her self-control and willing herself not to lash out. “You need to drink water. A lot of it.”

Camila’s only been drunk once, on her friend Ally’s twenty-first birthday party, and until the massive hangover the next day she’d enjoyed every minute of it. But she wasn’t nearly as drunk as Lauren is right now, and she isn’t sure water is even going to help at this stage.

Lauren stares at her, still leaning her back against the door to keep herself from falling over. “I do remember you. You live in my house.” Her speech is slurred and the alcohol is making her voice even huskier.

Camila hates herself for the way it makes her heart skip a beat. “I guess that’s one way to put it.” She glances from Lauren to the kitchen and it looks like a marathon.

“Can you walk?” she asks, pointing at the kitchen. “We need to get you there.”

Lauren points at her. “I can walk.” And then, “I want a cigarette.”

“No, no cigarettes. Water.” Camila wraps her fingers around Lauren’s wrist and tugs her towards the kitchen. To her surprise, Lauren follows her pretty steadily. But when Camila plants her down on one of the kitchen stools, she slumps forward until her forehead rests on the marble counter top.

“Right,” Camila mumbles to herself. In any other situation she would’ve been amused, but considering the fact that Lauren left her alone in _her own house_ to go to a party has her pretty annoyed. She doesn’t want to sympathize with Lauren right now. She just wants to make sure she won’t be hungover in the morning and decide it’s a good idea to yell at Camila for no reason or something.

Camila looks through the cabinets for a glass and fills it up with water. She places the glass in front of Lauren. “Drink this.”

Lauren sits up, her eyes glazed over and unfocused. “What?”

“If you don’t want to be hungover in the morning you should drink a lot of water,” Camila explains, pushing her own patience. She likes Lauren, she really does, but she’s pretty sure that’s just because she used to admire her so much as an artist, because there hasn’t really been any reason to like her as a person, too.

Lauren reaches out for the glass and their fingers brush. Camila tries to pull away, but Lauren grabs her hand and holds it while she drains the glass. Her eyes rest on Camila the entire time, but Camila doesn’t look up.

Lauren fucking Jauregui is holding her hand.

As much as she wants to be mad at Lauren for—well—everything, she feels all the anger leave her body. Lauren is refusing to let go of her hand. Camila’s pretty sure this could cure any disease.

She feels like she’s floating.

Lauren puts the empty glass down in front of her. She looks at their conjoint hands and, for a moment, nothing happens. Neither of them moves, neither says a word. And then Lauren clears her throat and pulls away.

Camila isn’t even sure Lauren really knows what she just did.

“Do you have more water?” Lauren asks.

Camila nods. She tries to say words but her tongue is paralyzed, her vocal cords quiet. It’s probably a good thing. If she’d say anything right now, her voice would probably be high and pitched and awkward.

She fills up the glass two more times, until Lauren has had enough. She doesn’t grab her hand anymore, and she definitely doesn’t look up to meet her eyes. Camila wonders if she’ll remember any of it in the morning.

When Lauren yawns, Camila gets pulled back into reality. It’s 4:30 AM. They really need to sleep.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Camila says, not giving Lauren a choice. Luckily she seems to agree.

Getting Lauren upstairs proves to be easier than she anticipated. Somehow Lauren seems to know exactly where to put her feet, and even though she sways with every step she takes, they make it safely to Lauren’s bedroom.

Lauren’s wearing a black dress, and at first Camila thinks she’ll be able to get it off herself. But when Lauren lays down on her bed and closes her eyes without changing into pajamas or taking off her makeup, she realizes it’s not going to happen unless she does something about it.

Turning off her feelings as much as possible, she pokes Lauren’s ribs. “Don’t go to sleep yet, you have to take off your dress and makeup first.”

When Lauren lifts her arms, Camila sighs. It feels wrong when she starts tugging at the bottom of Lauren’s dress to take it off her, even though there’s nothing sexual about it. She’s heard enough stories about guys taking advantage of girls who were intoxicated to feel creepy, but Lauren is in no state to do it herself and Camila’s just helping.

After a minute and lots of accidental hand brushes later, Lauren’s in her bra and panties.

“Take off your bra while I grab your PJs,” Camila commands, knowing it’s the only way to get Lauren to do something right now. She lifts the covers of Lauren’s bed and grabs the first piece of clothing she sees—a navy blue oversized shirt.

Unfortunately Lauren’s apparently very skilled at the whole take-your-bra-off-while-drunk thing, because when Camila looks up the first thing she sees is Lauren’s naked back. She swallows and reaches over the bed to hand Lauren the shirt.

“Put this on,” she says, slightly agitated. This shouldn’t even be happening. Lauren’s not supposed to be drunk and Camila’s not supposed to be taking care of her. The whole point of the contest is to get to know each other and befriend each other and—just not this.

Lauren puts on her shirt without a word, and then turns around to look at Camila. The look in her eyes asks, “Anything else?” in a way that makes Camila’s heart clench. Lauren looks like a lost puppy.

Camila wants to say, “You need to take off your makeup,” but it comes out as, “Are you okay?”

 “I—” Lauren starts, but even in her drunken state the question causes her to throws up walls. “I’m tired.”

“Just lay down, I’ll get a wash cloth for your face.” Camila’s voice is quiet, not as stern anymore. As much as she wants to be mad and _stay_ mad she just can’t. Lauren’s obviously not a bad person, even if she does try to make it look like she is. And it saddens her, because whatever Lauren did, she doesn’t deserve this. She’s only nineteen. She should be hanging out with friends and traveling the world and falling in love. Her life should be good. It should be her own. Not whatever this is.

For a moment, Lauren looks like she’s about to cry. She closes her eyes and nods. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she lifts the covers and climbs under them. Her eyes are on Camila now, waiting for the next thing to happen.

Camila wants to stroke Lauren’s hair back and hold her while she sleeps, just so she knows there’s someone who cares.

She opens the door closest to her, and finds a large ensuite bathroom behind it. After opening at least three cabinets, she finds a stack of clean wash cloths, and soaks one in warm water.

“Are you still awake?” she asks, walking back into Lauren’s bedroom.

“Yeah,” Lauren mumbles, clearly half asleep. Her voice is croaky and she has the covers pulled up to her eyes.

“Stay still.” Camila climbs onto the bed and pulls the covers down to Lauren’s chin, carefully wiping away most of the makeup with the wash cloth. It’s the closest she’s been to Lauren’s face so far, and it makes her feel incredibly caring. It makes her feel like more than just a fan who won a contest.

After she’s done, Lauren yawns again. “Thank you,” she says in a small voice.

Camila smiles. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m really tired.”

Camila doesn’t resist the urge to push a strand of hair out of Lauren’s face, her fingertips grazing Lauren’s forehead in the process. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Lauren shakes her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Maybe another time.” Lauren lets her eyes close, relaxing visibly. Without opening her eyes, she whispers, “Don’t stop,” so softly Camila isn’t sure she’s supposed to have even heard it.

But she still keeps running her fingers through Lauren’s hair until she falls asleep.

 

They’re woken up by a loud banging on the door, followed by, “Lauren, I’m opening this door in three seconds. Three, two, one.”

Camila needs a moment to process whatever’s happening right now, but Lauren is immediately wide awake and rolls over so she’s on the other side of the bed instead of—you know, with her face in Camila’s neck and her arm draped over Camila’s stomach.

The door flies open and Briana storms in, ready to start talking. When she sees Camila, however, she stops. Her eyes narrow. “What’s going on here?”

“I can explain,” Camila says, at the same time Lauren says, “I’m gonna be sick.”

She jumps out of bed and runs into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Camila’s still too startled by Briana’s sudden appearance to really react to it, until the sound of dry-heaving and vomit splattering into the toilet reaches her ears.

She walks to the bathroom door and presses one hand against it. “Lauren, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lauren says, but as soon as she’s done speaking, she throws up again.

Camila’s heart clenches at the realization that Lauren’s in there, all alone, with no one to hold her hair back. But she also knows it’s gross and kind of her own fault, so she’s not _that_ heartbroken over it.

Briana’s still in the doorway, staring at her like she’s grown a second head. It’s annoying, and somehow Camila’s gone from kind of liking her to absolutely strongly disliking her. She has no sense of privacy whatsoever and the way Lauren tenses every time she’s near can’t mean anything but bad things.

“We’ll be down soon,” Camila says, trying to keep her voice stern and steady. “Just give us a minute.”

Briana huffs. “Fine. But I do expect an explanation for whatever this is.”

Camila doesn’t think she’s homophobic, just shocked. Maybe.

As soon as Briana leaves, she knocks softly on the door. “Briana’s gone. Can you please open the door now?”

Silence. Then footsteps. Then the lock turns.

Camila pushes the door open, just far enough to stick her head inside the bathroom. Lauren is already back at the sink, washing her face. She looks like she died and came back to live after laying in the dirt for twelve hours.

“Did you take Advil?” Camila asks, keeping her distance to respect Lauren’s privacy even though Briana doesn’t. Especially because Briana doesn’t.

“Yeah.” Lauren doesn’t meet Camila’s eyes, doesn’t even look at her. “We didn’t hook up, did we? Because Briana always tells me not to hook up with fans because usually they’re too young and it’s bad for my reputation and—”

“Lauren,” Camila interrupts. “We didn’t hook up.”

Lauren looks relieved. “Good.”

Camila can’t help but wonder if Lauren hooked up with fans before. She can’t help but wonder if Lauren would be opposed to hooking up with her. She must think that either Camila’s pretty or that she was drunk enough to do something crazy, like sleep with the fan that’ll stay at her house for another week, otherwise she would’ve never considered it an option.

“I’m going downstairs,” Camila says, trying to avoid an awkward silence. “Unless you need me for anything.”

Lauren looks up. “Don’t tell Briana why I got sick. Just say it was bad food or something, okay?” It doesn’t like a question, despite her voice going up at the end.

Camila gives her a nod. She thinks Lauren is being stupid, but she doesn’t want her getting in trouble either.

Before she goes downstairs she makes a stop in her own bedroom to throw on some actual clothes instead of her pajamas, and to brush her teeth.

Lauren’s bedroom door is still closed when she comes out again.

She walks down the stairs, where a very agitated Briana is waiting for her.

“Where’s Lauren?”

“Getting ready.” Camila bites her lip. “She had a rough night. Bad food, you know how it is. That’s why I was in her room, to make sure she was okay.”

Briana looks at her skeptically, and Camila’s not sure she believes her. She can’t imagine last night was the first time Lauren got wasted like that.

But Briana doesn’t question her any further. “Guess we’ll just have to spend more time in hair and makeup.”

They don’t talk after that. Briana makes a few phone calls in the living room and Camila looks around the kitchen for food. She ends up eating a bowl of cereal, watching Briana and the stairs at the same time.

Lauren shows her face the same time Camila finishes breakfast—even though it’s almost 11.  She looks slightly better. Like, ten percent. Her hair isn’t such a mess anymore and her face not as pale.

Camila wants to go up to her, but Briana is faster. “Lauren, a word.”

Camila watches helplessly as they go into the build-in studio, Lauren’s shoulders hunched. Part of her wants to get up and eavesdrop on whatever is going on, but curiosity killed the cat and she’s not ready to go home yet.

Fifteen minutes pass. Fifteen minutes of silence, because the recording studio is soundproof. Fifteen minutes of Camila knowing Briana is giving Lauren a speech without being able to do anything about it.

When they come out, Lauren is quiet and distant. She doesn’t meet Camila’s eyes and doesn’t speak to her. She definitely doesn’t smile at her, not even a tiny little one.

“We’re leaving in about an hour,” Briana says to Camila. “Lauren’s new single is coming out soon and we’ll do some promotional press today.”

The excitement of a new single would’ve been better if Lauren didn’t look like she’d just taken an emotional beating.

“I’ll be ready,” Camila replies, unable to keep her voice from sounding cold. She hopes Lauren knows she’s on her side.

She slides off her stool to start getting ready, subtly brushing the back of her hand against Lauren’s arm to let her know she’s there, but Lauren tenses and pulls away. It’s painful, after last night.

“I’ll see you in a bit.” Camila reluctantly goes up the stairs, pausing on top to hear if anyone says anything. It’s quiet.

Maybe she’s overreacting. Lauren’s nineteen, she can probably handle herself. And they don’t even really know each other. Everything Camila’s seen so far is in no way corresponding with what she thought she knew about Lauren, and before yesterday Lauren didn’t even know Camila existed. Maybe this is just the way Hollywood works, with managers and publicists and cameramen.

But she can’t forget about the look in Lauren’s eyes when she asked her not to tell Briana about last night, or when Briana saw right through their lies.

Camila really wants to help, but she doesn’t know how. She’s just Camila. This isn’t her life. It’s not even her world.

Camila sends a few texts to her friends back in Miami, Ally and Dinah, and to her mom. Not knowing what else to say, she tells them LA is great and Lauren is even better. It’s too long a story to explain over text.

It takes her a while to figure out how the shower works, and then it takes her even longer to find the strength to get out again. She lets the hot water spill down her body, washing away her worries for even just a moment.

The smell of her shampoo reminds her of home, where everyone has parents instead of managers, where people listens to music instead of making it. She wonders how many other celebrities are in the same situation as Lauren. Probably a lot more than meets the eye. She doubts anyone knows Lauren is even in this situation. She certainly didn’t.

After what feels like forever, she steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around her body. Even the bathroom is black.

 

The cameras are back. They follow their every move, and Camila watches as Lauren explains what they’re about to do.

“Right now you guys don’t know yet, but my new single is coming out really soon, sooner than you think. And today we’re going to let some press listen to it for reviews and then do some interviews after. I think you’re all going to be really excited about it, I’m really in love with the song.” Lauren’s smile is pretty convincing. Camila would almost believe it’s real.

“When is your single coming out?” Camila asks, after Lauren’s done explaining and the cameras just follow them for content.

“Next week,” Lauren says. “Friday.”

Camila’s eyes widen. “That’s really soon.”

“I know.”

“How did you manage to keep that a secret?”

Lauren gives her a sad smile. “I manage to keep a lot of things a secret.”

Camila has to resist the urge to reach out and squeeze Lauren’s hand to comfort her. But they’re on camera, and the last time she tried something like that, Lauren tensed up.

They reach the building and go inside, and then everything goes really fast. Lauren is taken into a separate room for hair and makeup, while Camila is planted on a chair in the hallway across from the room without any instructions whatsoever. She gets the feeling this is going to happen a lot. These people aren’t here for her. _She_ ’s not even here for her.

Briana approaches her and sits down next to her. “This won’t take long. They’re just touching up and then we’re all set.”

Somehow it’s not how Camila expected this to go at all. When the radio DJ said, “Shadowing Lauren Jauregui,” she didn’t think she’d literally be following her around all day. Not that she minds being around Lauren, but she’s not really around _her_ right now—she’s around a different version of Lauren, the one she thought she’d see. But now that she’s met the real Lauren, the image they’re trying to uphold just isn’t good enough anymore.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Camila says. “It’s interesting, seeing how people’s lives are.”

Briana purses her lips. “Some days are more exciting than others.”

Camila wants to ask. She wants to know why Briana talks to Lauren the way she does, and why Lauren responds to Briana the way she does. She wants to know if they were ever really nice to each other, and why they still work together if their relationship is so strained.

“Do you go with Lauren every day?” she asks instead.

“Not every day. Just to things like this, and sometimes performances. I have other clients, too. When things need to be organized on the spot I’ll go along, basically. That’s my job, you know? Make sure my clients have things to show their face at, and then make sure they actually show their face.”

And it makes sense. Briana’s job is kind of hard, sometimes. Especially if your clients run off getting drunk at night. But still.

“The hard part is balancing everything out just right,” Briana continues. “It’s important not to tire someone out, but at the same time they must stay active to keep them in the spotlight.”

Camila doesn’t really want to hear it. She doesn’t want to sympathize with Briana. It’s so much easier to blindly side with Lauren if she doesn’t know all these things. It’d be easier if everything was just simple, black and white.

“That makes sense,” she nods. Not everyone will wait forever for new content, like her. “I guess there’s a lot we, as fans, don’t see.”

“Definitely.”

Before Briana can say anything else, Lauren and the cameras emerge from the room opposite of them. Lauren’s makeup has been redone and someone put a beanie on her head, which makes her look less tired and way more attractive than before.

“You look nice,” Camila says, and Lauren smiles at her. Like, a genuine smile. It’s enough to make Camila’s insides melt.

They go to a different part of the building, where a recording studio is set up with two bright yellow sofas and pillows in all kinds of bright colors. It’s a lot different from Lauren’s house, and it feels a lot cozier, too.

A handful of people are waiting for them, each with notepads and name tags with their companies on them.

They all get up when Lauren, Briana, Camila, and the cameras enter the room to introduce themselves and shake their hands. It’s a lot less formal than Camila expected, but slightly more formal than she sees in interviews.

“Alright,” Briana says, after everyone is seated on the couch, Lauren next to Camila on the far side of one of them. “As you all know, Lauren Jauregui’s new single is called Come Away, and it’s an up tempo dance song. We’re excited for you to hear it.”

Camila is even more excited than anyone in the room, probably. After all, she’s a fan. But, for Lauren’s sake, she tries to keep it down a bit, because nothing is more embarrassing than flipping out over a song when the artist is sitting right next to you.

Briana hits play on the computer and the room fills with music.

The song starts with guitar riffs, followed by the first verse. Lauren’s voice is loud and strong, but still manages to keep some of its smokiness. When she gets to the chorus, the beat becomes heavier, and Camila can feel the bass causing her heart to vibrate. Next to her, Lauren has an anxious look on her face.

It’s a break up song, Camila realizes after the second verse, but Lauren’s angry and throwing shit around instead of sulking away in her bedroom.

Camila gives the real Lauren a reassuring smile. It’s a good song. One that she expects to hear at parties and in clubs and, obviously, when she’s alone in her bedroom dancing and screaming along to the lyrics.

Lauren seems to care more about her opinion than the press’, because her eyes are on Camila the entire time, and she only relaxes after Camila approves.

When it’s over, Camila carefully squeezes Lauren’s knee. “I’m pre-ordering the shit out of this,” she whispers, just loud enough for the two of them to hear. It earns her another insides-melting smile.

 

During lunch, Lauren goes outside to smoke. Despite everything, Camila follows her.

They don’t say anything while Lauren smokes her cigarette, barely acknowledging Camila’s presence. It’s okay, Camila decides. Out of everyone inside that building, she’d still rather spend her time ruining her lungs through secondhand smoking than talking to Briana.

“You should really consider quitting,” Camila says, after Lauren’s done. “It’s bad for your voice.”

Lauren clenches her jaw, not meeting Camila’s eyes. “I know.”

 

For some reason, every interviewer seems to think their questions are super original, when they’re actually all just the same. Camila isn’t sure why Lauren hasn’t thrown any microphones yet. _She_ probably would’ve.

“Why did you decide to be part of such a large contest?” interview number seven asks, as if the previous six didn’t ask the exact same question.

Lauren fakes a giggle. “Well, my fans are very important to me, and they’ve been so supportive since day one. I wanted to give back, and if I could I would’ve let everyone stay with me for a week, but unfortunately my house can’t hold nearly a million people. So I decided to hold a contest in my home town, Miami, what’s up, and hopefully show my gratefulness that way. I like to think it worked out really well.”

As she speaks, she looks everywhere but Camila. Probably because she knows there’s just about one truth in that story, and it’s the fact that Miami is Lauren’s home town.

“Speaking of which,” the interviewer says, “The lucky winner of the contest is here in the room with us. Camila, want to come say hi?”

Camila frowns. She’s not sure she’s supposed to do anything but sit on the other side of the room and die of boredom. But Lauren gives her subtle nod, so she gets up and sits down next to her.

She waves awkwardly at the camera. “Hi, I’m Camila.”

“Camila!” the interviewer says. His name tag says Kinston. “On a scale of one to ten, how excited are you to spend the week with Lauren?”

Camila forces a smile, hoping it comes across just as radiant as she wants it to be. “Probably close to a hundred. Lauren’s amazing.”

“I agree with you there,” Kinston grins. He doesn’t seem to notice anything. Then again, he didn’t notice Lauren being off either. “Did you found out anything interesting the fans don’t know about Lauren yet?”

Because _obviously_ it would make sense if she went around spilling Lauren’s secrets. Camila has to keep herself from rolling her eyes. “Just that there are three showers in her house and they all have at least ten different knobs that make hot water burn your face off.”

Kinston laughs, and it’s the first time in two days that Camila has heard a genuine laugh. “I don’t believe you, your face looks beautiful.”

Camila almost chokes on air. “Thank you?”

“Must be the water,” Kinston continues. “Anyway, that’s all we have time for today. Lauren, is there anything you want to tell your fans before we sign off?”

“Just that you’re all incredible and I promise new music is coming really soon,” Lauren says directly to the camera, finishing with a smile.

Kinston’s cameraman turns off the recording, and Kinston thanks Lauren for the interview. After he and his cameraman leave, it’s just Camila and Lauren in the room.

Lauren tries to stifle a yawn. “I’m pretty sure that was the last one. If not, wake me up when someone else comes in.” She leans her head back against the couch and closes her eyes. Camila can’t tell if she’s serious or not.

But Lauren doesn’t move and while Camila’s sure she’s not actually asleep, she also knows there isn’t going to be a conversation.

She pulls out her phone and opens her Twitter app. Since she won the contest her Twitter account has gained thousands of followers, all fans who hope she’ll tweet something interesting related to their idol.

“Can I say we just wrapped up some interviews?”

“Knock yourself out, I don’t really give a shit,” Lauren replies. She opens one eye. “Maybe we should take a selfie so people will believe you’re actually here.”

Camila isn’t opposed to taking selfies with Lauren. She opens the camera app on her phone and switches to the front camera. Next to her, Lauren scoots closer and wraps one arm around Camila’s shoulder. Their cheeks touch as they both make a silly face and Camila snaps the picture. She sneaks in another one as Lauren starts pulling away, and somehow it turns out even better than the first.

In the second picture, Lauren’s just Lauren, and while Camila’s pretty sure she’s not supposed to like the real Lauren better than the Lauren she pretends to be, she does.

With her heart still beating against her chest, she attaches the first picture to a tweet and adds the caption, **_wrapping up interviews with this one. yes, guys, she’s real._**

She holds up her phone for Lauren’s approval, and then sends the tweet into the world. It gets its first retweets within a few seconds.

 

Camila isn’t sure why she’d hoped today would be different, but as she stands in the doorway watching Lauren get into a car with some cheerful people, she realizes that, of course, Lauren won’t change her ways for her after just two days. She knows she shouldn’t think like that, either. Just because Lauren’s important to her, doesn’t mean she’s important to Lauren, too. But she still can’t help the disappointed feeling as she turns around and walks back inside.

Her laptop is open on the coffee table, next to a steaming hot mug of tea.

“I’m back,” she says to the two faces on her screen. “What are we talking about?”

“House tour,” Dinah says. “You have to give us a house tour.”

“Well, you don’t _have_ to but it would be nice,” Ally corrects.

Dinah throws a piece of paper at her face. It gets stuck in Ally’s hair. “No, you have to.”

Camila watches her friends bicker with a grin. She misses them a lot. They talk in their group chat all the time, but it’s different from actually being with them. If she were, she’d be able to throw pieces of paper at Ally’s face, too.

“Alright,” she says, grabbing her laptop with the lid against her stomach so Ally and Dinah can see everything she sees. They squeal in unison.

“This is the living room,” Camila says, spinning around slowly. “That large window over there is somehow reflective on the other side. Like, if you’re outside you can’t look inside.”

“Sounds like a prison,” Dinah says, at the same time Ally says, “It’s like an interrogation room!”

Camila grins. “Over here are books, like, a lot. I’m not even sure they’re all in English. It’s the coolest thing in this place, aside from the recording studio. Did I mention she has a recording studio in her house?”

“She is a singer,” Ally says. “Kind of makes sense.”

“I’m a singer and I don’t have a recording studio in my house,” Dinah says. “Maybe I should get one.”

Camila pushes open the door to the studio and puts her laptop down next to the computer. She accidentally brushes the mouse and the desktop screen lights up.

“Shit,” she mutters. On the screen are different lines that each hold a layer of music. The file is titled _Song #5._

“I think she recorded something on here,” Camila says, looking for the play button. “If you two can be quiet for, like, three minutes we’ll get very exclusive stuff.”

“You can’t just listen to that,” Ally objects. “What if she comes in and throws you out of the house?”

Camila rolls her eyes. “She’s not even home. No one will know, but I don’t want to mess up, so if you let me do my thing and find the play button... I think I got it.”

Before anyone else can say something, Lauren’s voice fills the room.

“Untitled song number five. Written, recorded, and produced by Lauren Jauregui.” There’s a static silence that lasts about a second, before soft piano chords start. Camila stares through the windows that separate the two rooms that make up the studio. She tries to imagine Lauren sitting behind the piano, fingers flying over the keys. It’s a lot harder than she wants to admit.

Lauren’s music is usually accompanied by loud electric guitars and heavy bass, all the instrumentals edited on the computer to give it a fuller sound. Despite knowing every song by heart, Camila’s never heard a real piano in any of them.

Lauren starts singing, her voice hesitant at first but evidently growing more certain as the song progresses. Camila’s only ever heard one acoustic song by Lauren, a cover of her first single that was definitely _not_ acoustic. Hearing this song, she wonders why Lauren’s entire album doesn’t sound like this.

She loves Lauren’s album, but this song sends chills down her spine.

When it’s over and all she can hear is more static silence, she presses pause. From her laptop screen, Dinah and Ally stare at her in complete silence. They’re not even trying to mess up each other’s hair.

“Holy shit,” Dinah says eventually, interrupting the quiet. “She could put this song on an album twelve times and I’d still buy it.”

Ally agrees by nodding so hard Camila’s surprised her head doesn’t fall off.

“Mila, don’t you like it?” Ally asks, a concerned look in her eyes. “I’ve never seen you this calm before about Lauren’s music.”

Camila shakes her head. “I love it. I’m just wondering why it’s not like anything on her album. This is so much better, you’d think she’d put this out instead of keeping it hidden on her computer.”

Ally gives her a soft smile. “Maybe it’s private. Not everything has to be made public.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Camila glances at the computer and picks up her laptop again.

She shows them the rest of the house, and ends up on the deck next to the swimming pool, her laptop in front of her. Even at this time of day it’s still warm and she’s starting to get used to the dryness of the air.

“Her house is house goals,” Dinah says. “I want a pool on my roof, too.”

“I think I’m just gonna shrink it and bring it back home with me,” Camila laughs. “Shrink Lauren, too. I want to keep her in my pocket.”

“Sounds like a great plan. Can I come live with your ass if you have that pool on your roof?” Dinah bats her eyelashes flirtatiously, and Camila pretends to swoon.

“Speaking of Lauren, where is she?” Ally pushes Dinah’s face out of the screen and sets herself in the middle. “I thought she was just running out to do some stuff.”

Camila’s face falls. Part of her wants to tell her friends about her worries, part of her wants to keep this part of Lauren to herself. And she knows that makes no sense, but somehow she’s been allowed to see these little things Lauren doesn’t show to everyone and it makes her feel special. She gets butterflies in her stomach every time Lauren gives her one of those secret smiles, and she doesn’t want to share that with anyone.

But, because Ally is the kindest person ever and Dinah’s Dinah and occasionally comes out with really good advice sometimes, she sighs. “I don’t know where she is, to be honest. I’m kind of worried. She’s not the person I thought she was.”

Ally sits up immediately, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“When I got here it was all great and stuff, but her manager is really tough on her and I know this sounds super weird, but I feel like it drains the life out of her. I’ve never seen someone’s eyes go from smiling to dead so quickly.” Camila shivers, but not from the cold. “And last night she came home at four in the morning, drunk off her ass, and she told me, ‘I wouldn’t understand,’ when I asked if she wanted to talk.”

Dinah pushes her way back into the frame. “You think she’s out partying again?”

Camila nods. “I’m sure of it.”

“She should’ve taken you with her,” Dinah says, flipping her hair. “You could’ve met so many famous people at the parties she goes to.”

Ally gives Camila a smile. “Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it because she doesn’t know you yet? Don’t take it personally. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“But she’s not!” Camila blurts out, harsher than she intended. She covers her face with her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just—I’m really worried she’s not okay. If I can see it after spending one day with her it has to mean something, right?”

Ally says something under her breath to Dinah, who purses her lips and nods.

“What did you say?” Camila clenches her jaw. Here she is, telling her friends the biggest secret she’s ever had, and they just blow her off like that. It’s frustrating, to say the least. She knows what she’s seen. No one looks like that and acts like that when there’s nothing wrong.

“Okay, please don’t get mad, but do you think it’s possible that maybe you want to be special to Lauren so badly that you think you see things that aren’t there?” Ally speaks hesitantly, like she expects Camila to explode.

But Camila isn’t the exploding type. She just gets quiet. “I don’t know. No. I know what I saw. People don’t get drunk like that for no reason.”

“Some people do. I’m not saying you’re wrong, I don’t know that because I’m not there. But try not to get tunnel vision. People tend to look for cues that prove their point, and overlook things that don’t. All I’m saying is don’t rush to conclusions, Mila. You may be right, but don’t assume anything until she tells you.” Ally spoke slowly, locking her eyes with Camila’s the best she could over the webcam.

Camila let every word sink in before nodding. “I guess you’re right. Doesn’t mean I’m not worried about her, though.”

Ally smiles. “I never said you couldn’t be.”

“Listen to her, Mila. She’s smart.” Dinah wraps Ally in a hug, gesturing at the webcam for Camila to put her arms around them. She leans forward to hug the lid of her laptop. It’s not as comfortable as actually hugging them, but it’ll have to do for now.

“Thanks, guys,” Camila says when they all lean back. Or, rather, she leans back. Dinah and Ally are still cuddling. “I really miss you.”

“We miss you, too,” they say in unison.

They talk for a while, mainly about Camila’s experience in Hollywood so far. She tells them about the interviews and the cameras and the contract she had to sign. She tries to explain to them what the air feels like, and how the Pacific Ocean smells. She makes them promise they will Skype again soon.

After another hour or so, Dinah starts yawning and Ally looks like she’s already asleep. Camila checks her phone. It’s getting pretty late for her, and considering they are in another time zone, she tells them good night.

It’s not a conscious decision to go downstairs with a blanket and settle on the couch in the living room to wait for Lauren. It’s just what makes the most sense.

She stopped questioning things she does for Lauren the minute she had her arms wrapped around her waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god guys, i never expected the positive response this got! thanks to everyone who left kudos, it honestly encouraged me to write a lot quicker, haha. however, i am currently in college, and therefore i'm not sure how often i can update this quickly, especially since the chapters are pretty long. i'll do what i can, so please be patient with me.


	3. day 3

When Camila wakes up, the sun is just peeking through the half closed curtains. She blinks a few times, slightly disoriented, before realizing she’s still on the couch in Lauren’s living room. Her blanket fell off of her during the night, which explains why she’s so cold. Stupid AC.

“Lauren?” she shouts, rolling off the couch. “Are you home yet?”

She holds her breath in hopes of hearing a reply, but it doesn’t come. Lauren’s probably still asleep.

She grabs her blanket and wraps it around her shoulders like a cape, trudging to the kitchen. The fridge is mostly empty, aside from a couple bottles of beer and other really unhealthy things, but she manages to find a few eggs to make an omelet.

She puts on music on her phone, skipping Lauren’s songs. It just feels weird, listening to someone’s music while you’re in their house, and she’s not too sure things wouldn’t be awkward if Lauren came down and heard her own music.

After eating her breakfast with some OJ that seems decent enough, she decides to give the shower another chance not to burn her face off. Her hair still smells like smoke from Lauren’s cigarettes, even though she hasn’t seen her since yesterday evening.

It takes her a few minutes to remember how the shower works, but when she finally manages to find a nice temperature, it’s like heaven.

After she gets out of the shower, she sits on the edge of her bed for another thirty minutes, reading tweets and Tumblr posts on her phone. Her selfie with Lauren got her hundreds of new followers in less than a day, and her notifications are full of people asking for more pictures together.

With a faint smile on her face, she writes another tweet. **_good morning LA.  i’m not sure what we’re doing today but i’m sure it’s gonna be exciting :)_**

The more time she spends in LA with Lauren, the more she understands how Lauren managed to keep the whole thing with her manager a secret. As long as she doesn’t address it, no one will know it’s even happening. Camila always thought fans and press knew way more about a celebrity than they were supposed to, but lately, with everything she’s finding out about Lauren, she’s not so sure of that.

As she’s sitting on her bed, it dawns on her that she hasn’t slept in it yet. Her first night in LA she slept in Lauren’s bed, and the second on Lauren’s couch. It’s probably a good thing the fans will never know. She can already see the tweets and Tumblr posts analyzing their relationship. Not that she’d be opposed to being in a relationship with Lauren, but it could potentially be painful, since Lauren definitely isn’t into her like that. But for Camila it’s getting harder every day to distinguish between admiring Lauren as a fan, and liking her as a person. Even with her weird hot-and-cold attitude, she has such a strong personality it’s hard _not_ to fall for her.

She spends some more time updating her social media accounts, before noticing it’s nearly 10 AM. The days before this one, their day started way earlier than this, she’s sure of it. Even though Briana hasn’t contacted her yet, she can’t imagine they don’t have anything planned.

She slips off the bed and crosses the hallway to knock on Lauren’s bedroom door. When Lauren doesn’t answer, she tries again and calls her name, a bit louder this time.

“Lauren? It’s me, Camila.”

Still no response.

An uneasy feeling settles in Camila’s stomach as she tries the door handle. It’s unlocked. She pushes her way into the room, ignoring the feeling that she’s being incredibly rude, remembering how she felt when Briana burst into the room the day before. But when she sees Lauren’s empty bed, she forgets about privacy issues immediately.

“Lauren? Are you in the bathroom?” Her voice is shaking slightly.

There’s no reply from the bathroom either, and Camila throws open the door. She clenches her jaw upon seeing the emptiness, and her fingers tremble with anxiety as she pulls out her phone.

No new messages.

“Where the fuck are you,” she whispers, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub.

Her mind is racing. Of course Lauren never actually Camila her phone number, which means she has no way of contacting her. But Lauren isn’t home. She never came home last night. And, being the way that she is, Camila’s brain is already filled with worst case scenarios.

She closes her eyes to think. She really only has two options, both of which include crying a lot and wishing she’d locked Lauren up in her room, because if Lauren hadn’t gone out, they wouldn’t be in trouble right now.

Option one: figure out where Lauren is and drag her back home by her hair. Considering the fact that she doesn’t have her phone number, that’s gonna be hard. She doesn’t even know for sure what Lauren’s car looks like.

Option two: call Briana, and let her know what’s going on. Even though Lauren might hate her for it, it’s the best option. For all she knows Lauren could be lying unconscious in the dirt right now.

The thought makes her gut twist, and she rushes out of Lauren’s bedroom into her own. She hasn’t added Briana’s number to her contact list yet, mainly because she doesn’t really like Briana, but her business card is on the end table next to her bed.

The phone goes over three times before Briana picks up with a rehearsed message about the management company she works for.

“Hey, it’s Camila,” Camila says when a silence falls. She looks out the window, hoping to see Lauren’s car coming down the street. She really doesn’t want to do this, but she can’t get the image of Lauren lying in the dirt out of her head. “Do you know where Lauren is?”

A long pause makes her knees grow weak.

“What do you mean?”

Camila bites her lip. “She didn’t come home last night, and—”

“She wasn’t supposed to leave in the first place,” Briana interrupts. “Is this the first time she’s left you alone?”

Camila closes her eyes and lets out a shaky breath. She hates lying, but if she tells the truth Lauren will be in even bigger trouble than she is right now. So, “Yeah. I would’ve called her myself, but I don’t have her number. I’m sure it’s nothing, she’s probably just crashing at someone’s place, but—”

“Lauren has a photoshoot today. I’ll have someone pick you up from her house in an hour, and he’ll bring you to the location.”

 “What about Lauren?”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll deal with her. And Camila? No word about this to anyone.”

Before Camila can reply, or protest, Briana ends the call, and Camila’s left to worry about Lauren just as much as before.

 

Briana keeps her word. One hour later, someone of Lauren’s management team comes to pick up Camila.

During the entire trip, Camila tries to talk to him about the whole situation, in an attempt to figure out where Lauren was and whether she’s okay. But he tells her he has no idea what she’s talking about, and that his only job is to make sure she got to the beach they’re shooting at in time.

Camila makes a mental note to ask Lauren’s phone number as soon as possible.

But when they get to the beach, Lauren’s already in hair and makeup and everything’s hectic as people are rushing around each other to get things in order in time for the photoshoot.

It’s the first time Camila’s on a Californian beach, and honestly, she’s not really impressed. Mainly because they’re in an area that has been set off, so there’s no resemblance of actual life. People are just doing their job, and it’s boring to watch.

Camila brushes a strand of hair out of her face and watches Lauren instead. Everyone is desperately trying to make her look more alive, but it’s tough. Even through the makeup Camila can see dark circles under dead eyes, and her skin is even paler than normally. She dressed in what Camila guesses is her first photoshoot outfit; simple black jeans and a white crop top, but it looks off, like a ghost is wearing them instead of a person.

Briana is nowhere to be seen.

Camila’s not sure how much time has passed when people finally start breaking away from Lauren, leaving her alone with her phone and maybe one other person spraying things at her hair.

Biting her lip, Camila walks up to Lauren. “Hey.”

Lauren doesn’t look up from her phone. “What do you want, Camila?”

“Just wanted to see if you were okay.” Camila tries to sound cheerful, despite Lauren’s harsh tone. “I was worried about you.”

Lauren’s eyes flicker up, glancing at Camila for less than a second, before looking down again. “I’m fine. As you can see, I can’t really talk right now, I’m busy.”

“Can we talk later?”

“I’m busy later, too.”

With a sigh, Camila runs her hand through her hair. Oddly enough, it’s a habit she picked up from Lauren, even before they met. “Right. You’re mad at me. I would be too, if I were you. But I’d also try to see it from my point of view. I woke up in an empty house and after the previous night—I just needed to know you were safe.”

Lauren eyes flicker up to Camila’s face. “Like I said, I’m fine. And I’m busy. Bye, Camila.”

“I guess I’ll just have to come find you later when you’re not busy.” Camila lingers for another moment, debating whether she should say something else, but in the end just walks off.

It hurts, Lauren being mad at her. It hurts even more because she’s mad because Camila tried to do the right thing. She tried to help her. She wanted her to be okay.

But, she figures, it’s better to have Lauren mad and at the photoshoot than wherever she was before.

The photoshoot itself is pretty unexciting. The photographer tells Lauren to pose or look a certain way, and in between outfit changes makeup artists and hair dressers touch up Lauren’s face so she doesn’t look like she just came back from a trip to hell.

The longer the shoot goes on, the more Camila notices Lauren’s exhaustion. Even from far away she can see the makeup being heavier than usually to cover up dark circles under her eyes and blotchy skin. Her face contorts every time she moves, like every movement hurts. It bothers Camila more than she wants to admit, seeing Lauren like this.

And yet. Even after everything, she still can’t help the warm feeling she gets every time she looks at her. This girl, this sort of broken, nineteen year old girl, has been her idol for years, and it’s hard for Camila to let that image go.

Since the start of Lauren’s career, Camila’s been there. She was there for the first EP, the first music video, the first album. She stayed up to watch the time Lauren won her first award, and she’s been there through all the critics and the haters, and that one time Lauren didn’t go on social media for an entire month and everyone thought she’d died.

And, Lauren’s been there for Camila, too, even if it wasn’t in person. Whenever she had a bad day, Camila would just watch interviews or listen to her album, and it would make her feel better. She even made some new friends through the fandom, and some of her favorite memories happened because of Lauren—like that one time a bunch of fans met up for a flash mob and Lauren acknowledged them when they spammed her with the video.

Lauren Jauregui is pretty fucking important to Camila, whether she likes it or not, and she’s not about to give up on her because of some hard feelings. That’s just not an option.

As she watches Lauren pose for the camera, Camila decides never to give up on her. She’s seen the real Lauren, the one that isn’t rude for no reason or makes simplistic pop music. Because every now and then, she smiles that one genuine smile, and it lights up entire world. And maybe it wasn’t any of her business before, it is now. You can’t live in someone’s house for a week and not make their problems your business, especially if they’re affecting you, too.

“Let’s take a break,” the photographer says. “Lauren, try looking more alive when we pick up again in fifteen minutes.”

Lauren glares at him, but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

Camila gathers all her willpower and approaches Lauren, ignoring the smoke coming from the freshly lit cigarette.

“Don’t listen to him,” she says. “You look beautiful.”

Lauren grimaces, taking a long drag. “Right.”

“You’re not busy right now,” Camila says. “Except, maybe, busy fucking up your lungs.”

“I’m really not in the mood for a speech,” Lauren snaps. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Camila bites her lip, forcing herself to stay calm. Of course Lauren’s mad. But she only called Briana because she cares. She cares so much. If she could, she would take all Lauren’s problems and bear the load herself, just to see her smile again.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Lauren rolls her eyes. “I was doing fine before you snitched on me and got Briana to yell at me—again. Just because you think something’s a good idea doesn’t mean it really is, Camila. Keep your nose out of my shit next time, I don’t need you to worry about me. I don’t need anything from you, really, except to leave me the fuck alone.”

It stings, a lot. Tears prick in her eyes, and she has to turn away in order not to cry in front of Lauren. Her knees are weak as she stumbles away, flopping down in the sand a few feet out of the boundaries of the photoshoot.

She pulls up her knees and buries her face in the fabric of her jeans, trying not to cry. When she looks up, Lauren’s looking at her, cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth. But she doesn’t call her name. She doesn’t apologize. There’s no husky voice telling her to come back and talk about it. Just the sound of ocean waves crashing on the sand of a Californian beach Camila never thought she’d associate with heartbreak.

 

They don’t talk for the rest of the photoshoot. Gregg, the cameraman, comes up to Camila to ask a few questions for the video diaries, and she has to lie in almost every answer to make Lauren look like a decent human being.

There’s an ache in her chest, and every time she looks at Lauren and sees her being miserable, it gets harder to ignore.

When the shoot is over, Lauren drives them home. The entire ride is filled with a heavy silence that hangs over them like thunder clouds, creating tension so heavy Camila can feel them in her bones.

Lauren disappears into her bedroom as soon as she gets the chance, and Camila climbs on the roof. She puts on Lauren’s album and closes her eyes, trying to pretend her dream girl isn’t actually a nightmare.

Now that she’s alone, she allows herself to let a few tears slip through. It’s so unfair. Every time she tries to do the right thing, Lauren gets mad. And every time she tells herself it doesn’t matter what Lauren thinks of her, her tongue feels heavy as if she just told a lie.

She hates it. She hates the way she feels about Lauren, because there isn’t a single reason why she should still care. She hates LA, for what it did to her. She hates the contest for ruining her dream. But she doesn’t hate Lauren—not really. She wants to, but she can’t.

“That’s my song.”

Camila looks up, subconsciously turning down the music. “Yeah, I’m a fan, remember?”

Lauren swallows visibly. She’s no longer wearing the makeup from the photoshoot earlier, and she changed her revealing outfit for a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. The hair products have been washed out. She looks human again.

“Mind if I join you?”

Camila suppresses a sigh, but nods anyway. “Sure, whatever. It’s your house.”

Lauren climbs on the roof, keeping a decent distance from Camila, but it’s a roof and there’s never enough distance between them to keep Camila’s heart from skipping a beat.

“It’s not, actually.” Lauren lights a cigarette, but blows the smoke into the opposite direction of where Camila’s sitting. “This house belongs to the management company. I just live in it.”

“Oh.” It’s a polite response to someone opening up, but Camila’s not ready to forgive Lauren yet. Maybe Lauren can pull that hot-and-cold bullshit with other people, but not with her. And it’s not like it’s super hard to be honest and open with her—she’s literally one of the most understanding people in the world.

“Yeah.” Lauren takes another drag from her cigarette, once again blowing the smoke in another direction.

Camila waits for a follow-up, an apology, but it doesn’t come. They sit in silence, Lauren smoking and Camila trying to focus on the music coming from her phone. But the person whose voice is on that recording is sitting right next to her, and the lyrics aren’t what she wants to hear.

When the song is over and Lauren’s cigarette is burnt up, Camila decides she’s done waiting. She tightens the grip on her phone and starts climbing past Lauren, back to safety.

She’s almost at the stairs when Lauren’s voice stops her. “Camila, I’m sorry.”

 _Finally_ shouldn’t be an emotion, but Camila’s pretty sure this is what it feels like. She turns around, walks back slowly. “For what?”

“For not being what you expected.” Lauren doesn’t look at her. “I know you’re disappointed. I would be, too. I’m not the girl you see in videos or read about in interviews. I’m not even the girl I pretend to be in my music,” Lauren continues. “I used to be. I don’t know what happened.”

Camila wants to say, _I’m not disappointed_ , and, _You’re still that girl to me_ , but then she would be lying and she doesn’t want to lie _to_ the girl she lies _for_. She wants to say, _I don’t care, I still love you_ , but they’re past that now. At some point in the past few days they moved past the point of fan-and-idol, and it’s no longer acceptable for Camila to attack Lauren with hugs or to declare her undying love. She wants to say, _Hollywood fucked you up, and I understand_.

Instead she says, “I accept your apology.”

Lauren looks at her now, a hint of smile on her lips. “For what it’s worth, I appreciate you looking out for me. I guess I’m just not used to that anymore.”

And as much as Camila wants to stay mad at Lauren, her heart breaks for her in that moment. Because Lauren’s been working on her career since she was sixteen. Because for three years, she’s been sucked into the downwards spiral of fame and fortunate, all alone in LA, with no one looking out for her. Because even this bitter version of Lauren deserves someone to look out for her. _Especially_ her.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Camila says, swallowing the _I’ll always look out for you_.

Lauren grimaces. “I lied when I said I was okay before Briana came to pick me up. I passed out on someone else’s bathroom floor in a puddle of my own vomit last night. I wouldn’t say okay is an accurate description of my life anymore.”

Camila’s eyes widen. “Shit.”

“I’m alive, though.” Lauren gives her a sad smile. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

In an impulse, Camila grabs Lauren’s hand. “You’re my friend. I’ll always worry about you.”

Lauren doesn’t pull away, not immediately. She stares at their hands, closes her eyes. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and right before she turns away, Camila sees something shimmer on her cheek.

“I’ll be downstairs,” she says, giving Lauren’s hand a soft squeeze. She lingers for one more moment, but when Lauren doesn’t reply, she isn’t offended.

 

“Is it okay with you if I have a few people over?” Lauren asks later, when they’re sitting in the living room.

Camila pauses her game and sends a smile Lauren’s way. “I’m your guest, remember? You don’t need my permission to throw a party.”

“It’s not a party,” Lauren says, putting her hand between the pages of her book and grabs her phone. “They’re just some of my friends. I’m sure you’ve seen them in pictures, or something.”

Camila bites her lip. She probably has. She’s not sure there’s a picture of Lauren she hasn’t seen before, but Lauren doesn’t need to know that. “Yeah, maybe.”

Lauren looks better. Less like she was nearly murdered and more like she just didn’t get a lot of sleep that night. Camila likes to think the heart-to-heart from earlier contributed to that.

“They’ll be here in an hour,” Lauren says. “Any specific drinks you want? I can make Zayn pick them up.”

Camila’s eyes widen. “Zayn? As in Zayn Malik?”

“Yeah.” Lauren grins. “And I’m Lauren Jauregui. What’s new?”

“I didn’t know you were friends.”

Lauren looks up from her phone. “We hang out sometimes. If you don’t want anything I’ll just make him get more beer.”

“I don’t really have a lot of experience with alcohol,” Camila says, feeling her cheeks flush. “Since, you know, I’m underage.”

Lauren’s eyes narrow. For a moment it looks like she’s about to say something that’ll make Camila feel even more awkward, but then she cracks a soft smile. “That’s good, keep your brain cells healthy. But tonight we’re going to get fucked up, so give me something. Anything.”

Camila goes over all the alcoholic drinks she knows in her head, trying to remember which ones she liked on Ally’s birthday party. “Uh, tequila?”

“Oh no. Anything _but_ tequila.” Lauren shakes her head. “I’ll decide on the drinks. You just have a lot of bad ideas that’ll end up with either of us dead, and Briana will kill me if you die.”

She goes back to typing on her phone, and Camila watches her for another minute. She decides she likes this version of Lauren.

 

Three hours later, Camila decides it is sort of a party. There are at least ten people, including her and Lauren, and it feels like they’ve been here for much longer than two hours.

Music is booming from the sound system, and there are speakers all over the house, so it sounds like it’s coming from literally everywhere. It’s probably a good thing Lauren’s neighborhood is so widespread.

Camila’s introduced as ‘the girl who won my contest’ to literally everyone, except a vaguely familiar girl whose name Camila’s already forgotten. To her, Camila’s introduced as Lauren’s friend. And Lauren was right, Camila recognizes at least have the people present from pictures on Lauren’s Instagram.

 Camila’s in front of the large fish tank with a familiar red cup in her hand when Lauren approaches her with another cup.

“I made you a drink,” she says, handing her the cup.

Camila frowns, both hands full. “I already have a drink.”

Without a word, Lauren takes her first cup and drains it in one go, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand when she’s done. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s a good thing we’re already at your house, otherwise I would’ve had to carry you back at the end of the night,” Camila says.

Lauren laughs, loud and genuinely. She taps her fingers to the beat as they watch the fish together. Camila’s all too aware of their arms almost touching.

“Lauren, do you have food?” someone shouts, causing Lauren to excuse herself and disappear to the kitchen. Camila hears them bickering over the limited food options Lauren has, and she chuckles. It’s much better seeing Lauren with people she’s comfortable with. There’s less tension and more smiling.

“So you’re the lucky girl who gets to spend a week with my best friend,” a voice says.

Camila looks up. The girl whose name she forgot is standing next to her, looking at her with piercing brown eyes and a knowing smirk.

Camila nods, unsure whether this girl likes her or not. “Uh, yeah, I’m Camila. Nice to meet you.”

“Normani. Are you liking LA so far?”

It’s a simple question, but Camila still hesitates. She doesn’t like LA, but she’s warming up to it. Most of that has to do with Lauren being hot and cold and Camila not knowing where they stand, but considering the fact that Normani just put a claim on Lauren’s best friendship, she’s not sure that’s the right thing to say.

“It’s different,” she says, and then, to distract Normani from the question, “How do you know Lauren?”

“I was one of the dancers in her first music video,” Normani says. “We were both pretty new to the business, so we experienced it all together.”

Camila snaps her fingers. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere. I’m at least half the views on that video.”

Normani laughs. “Sounds like you’re the right person for this contest, then.”

Camila glances over Normani’s shoulder to the kitchen, where Lauren is throwing potato chips at Zayn Malik’s face. She’s shaking with laughter, and barely dodges his attempts to take the bag from her.

“I like to think so,” Camila says, her eyes still on Lauren, who catches sight of her and waves—at the expensive of losing her bag of chips. “I like to think we’re friends.”

Normani follows her gaze, looking back and forth between the two. “She says you’ve been taking good care of her.”

“I’ve only taken care of her once,” Camila shrugs. “Anybody would’ve done the same.”

Normani gives her a sad smile in return. “She can be a handful sometimes, but once you get to know her, you’ll know she’s worth it.”

Camila looks at Normani, and wonders how many times she’s held Lauren’s hair back while she threw up. Or how many times she had to make sure Lauren didn’t fall over when she could barely stand.

“I know she’s worth it,” Camila sighs. She’s about to say something else, but then Lauren shrieks and runs away from Zayn, who’s chasing her with the bag of chips in his hand. Half its content is on the kitchen floor.

“Camz, protect me,” Lauren cries out, grabbing Camila’s arm to twirl around her and hide behind her back. “He’s gonna kill me.”

Camila’s heart skips a beat at the nickname, but she doesn’t let that stop her. She spreads her arms protectively, reaching behind her back to grab Lauren’s wrist and keep her still. Zayn skids to a stop in front of them, holding out the bag of chips.

“I’ll trade her for food,” he says, and it would be a lie if Camila said she wasn’t tempted to make the deal.

“Asshole,” Lauren laughs, stealing a sip from Camila’s cup. “I’m much better than food.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Zayn retorts. He playfully wiggles his eyebrows, and it takes a second for Camila to understand the innuendo.

“Right,” she says, not letting go of Lauren’s wrist. “Sorry, can’t do. Apparently it’s my job to protect her.”

“Yes, tell him,” Lauren says from behind Camila’s back.

Camila tries to think of a way to get rid of Zayn, even though he actually seems really nice, but Normani’s faster.

Somehow she manages to steal Lauren away from Camila, and pushes her right into Zayn’s arms. “I’ll take that deal.”

Two seconds later, Zayn has a screaming Lauren thrown over his shoulder, and Normani has a bag of chips in her hand. She offers Camila some, and the two watch as Zayn carries Lauren all the way to the bar and places her on it.

Lauren’s other friends start chanting, “Body shots, body shots, body shots,” and while Camila isn’t too fond of the idea of Zayn’s tongue on Lauren’s body, she _is_ eager to see Lauren half naked.

She blames the alcohol when she realizes she’s joined in with the chanting.

 

It’s many hours past midnight when Camila decides she really likes LA. Most of that has to do with Lauren, whose head is resting on her shoulder as they’re sitting on the front porch with everyone else, and whose fingers are intertwined with Camila’s.

And in the back of her head she knows this means nothing, that tomorrow everything will go back to normal, but tonight they’re drunk and tonight they don’t care about personal space.

Tonight Camila lets herself fall in love with Lauren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long. i got sick over the weekend and couldn't write, and then i had a lot of homework to catch up on. hope y'all like the chapter. let me know what you think!


	4. day 4

There’s a short, fleeting moment between waking up and feeling the effects of her hangover in which Camila Cabello is completely aware of the way Lauren Jauregui is asleep in her lap. In that moment time seems to stand still, and all Camila can think about is the way Lauren’s hair is sprawled out like a fan over her legs, and how their hands are still somewhat laced together.

Then the headache hits her full force, and she nearly doubles over in blinding pain.

It’s a struggle, not waking Lauren and jumping off the couch at the same time, but somehow she manages it and makes it to the bathroom just in time before her stomach turns and everything she ate in the last twenty-four hours to make its way out again.

She feels worse than the last time she was hungover, and after she’s done puking she lets herself sink to the floor. Resting her cheek against the cool tiles, she wishes she could just disappear.

Nothing’s worth feeling like this. Not really.

She’s not sure how much time has passed or whether she’s been awake this whole time when a knock on the door startles her.

“Camila? Is that you in there?”

Gathering all her willpower, she scrambles to her feet. “Yeah, who is it?”

“It’s Normani. Are you okay?”

Camila stumbles towards the bathroom door and unlocks it. She leans her head against the doorpost. “Not really.”

Normani’s eyes glance over her from top to bottom, and back to her eyes. “You definitely looked better last night.”

“My head feels like it’s gonna explode,” Camila says, pressing her palm against her forehead. “Is that normal?”

Normani gives her a sympathetic smile. She steps into the bathroom and closes the door again, leaving the lights off. Camila’s never been more grateful for darkness.

She watches as Normani ruffles through some stuff in the cabinets. Two seconds later, a bottle of pills is handed to her.

“Take this, it’ll help with the headache.”

Camila does as she’s told. “How are you not dying right now?”

“I didn’t drink as much, and I also drink more often. My ass can handle this shit.” Normani sits down at the edge of the bathtub, while Camila lets herself slide back on the ground again. She likes the coolness of the tiles. It helps her clear her head.

“I heard you wake up,” Normani continues. “I’m surprised Lauren’s still asleep.”

Camila’s head snaps up at the mention of Lauren’s name. She instantly regrets it. With a groan, she grabs the back of her head and pulls up her legs.

Something moves in front of her, and a moment later Normani’s by her side. “Let me get you some water.”

She’s gone before Camila can respond. When she gets back, it’s with two bottles of water and a cold damp wash cloth.

While Camila chugs back a liter of water, Normani presses the wash cloth against her forehead. “Here you go. You’ll feel better soon.”

“I’m never drinking again,” Camila groans between sips. “I don’t know how Lauren does it every night.” It slips out before she realizes it.

There’s a silence as Normani’s hand disappears from her forehead.

“Shit. I didn’t mean it like that.” Camila sits up. “Lauren can do whatever she wants. It’s just—not that healthy, I guess.”

Normani looks at her with sad eyes. “I know what you mean. It’s okay.” She takes a deep breath, standing up to lock the door.

Camila pushes herself off the floor and onto the edge of the bath tub. It’s less comfortable, but so is the conversation they’re about to have, and she wants Normani to know she’s serious about this. That she’s serious about Lauren.

“I’ve known Lauren for a pretty long time, now. We’ve been best friends for almost just as long,” Normani says, sitting down next to Camila. “Remember how I told you we met on the set of her first music video? We were both super nervous, but there was no reason to. Everyone was understanding, and they were there to help. They were great. Lauren was great. Back then I had no idea who she was, but I knew she’d make it big.” Normani gestures at the place around them. “It’s safe to say I was right. Three years later, and here we are. It’s still pretty surreal. But a lot has changed. How long have you been a fan?”

Camila cracks a smile. “Since her first EP.”

Normani raises her eyebrows. “So you’ve basically known her longer than I have.”

“Not personally.”

“Still. You’ve seen pretty much her entire career.”

Camila frowns. “If there’s one thing I’ve realized this week it’s that nothing’s as it seems in LA. I thought I knew Lauren pretty well by now, but when I met her I realized I didn’t know anything.”

“It’s not your fault. Her entire life is filtered by management and PR. I wouldn’t be surprised if her next interview’s going to be scripted.” Normani’s voice is soft, and with a hint of sadness at the edges.

Camila shakes her head in disbelief. “How can she let that happen?”

“You gotta ask her that,” Normani says.. “I’m just here to support her, whatever she does.”

Before Camila can reply, someone knocks on the door.

“Mani, are you in here?”

Lauren.

Camila bites her lip, suddenly feeling bad about how she and Normani just talked about Lauren. They weren’t saying anything bad, but still. Talking about people behind their back never makes her feel entirely comfortable.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Normani slips off the tub’s edge and opens the door. Lauren sticks her head inside. Her gaze fall on Camila, who gives her an awkward wave.

Lauren’s eyes narrow. “You two weren’t fucking, were you?”

“No!” Camila and Normani say at the same time. And, because she’s awkward and says wrong things sometimes, Camila adds, “Ew, gross.”

“Hey, I’m not gross,” Normani says, feigning offence.

“I didn’t mean it like that—” Camila starts, but when she sees Lauren chuckling she stops. “I mean—you know what I mean.”

“We know what you mean,” Lauren grins, stepping inside to turn on the lights.

The second the bathroom is lit up, Camila’s headache returns full force. She groans and covers her face with her hands at an attempt to block out the light.

Somewhere in the distance, Lauren laughs, and half a moment later, they darkness is back.

 

As it turns out, everyone else woke up at the same time Lauren did, and they spend the next hour or so cleaning up the place. No one else is really suffering from a major hangover, and they all huddle around Camila for a group hug when they learn she’d rather die than breathe right now.

It’s actually pretty nice.

They also let Camila lay on the couch while they work around her, because Zayn laughs and says, “We’ve all been hungover before.”

If she were less hungover she would’ve been more excited about it. But she’s still pretty excited when he comes up to her when they’re almost done to sit on the couch with her.

Lauren’s still in the party area, wiping something off the bar, and she glances at Camila every now and then. When Zayn comes to sit with her, she ducks her head to hide either a smile or something else, but she’s too quick for Camila to see.

“Are you feeling any better yet?” Zayn asks, lifting Camila’s legs to put them on his lap.

“A little,” Camila nods. She’s not sure what to say next. Yeah, she’s a fan of Zayn, but if she learned anything from this week, it’s that you never know the artist until you’ve spent a few days with them. And so far she’s spent less than twelve hours with him.

“Just keep your head down and you’ll be fine in a few hours,” he says. “We’re almost done, and Lauren said you two have places to be today, so we’ll be leaving pretty soon.”

Camila frowns. She didn’t know they had things to do today. Then again, these kinds of things are usually planned without her knowing. It’s not the first time she hears about an activity the day of said activity.

“Any idea what we’ll be doing?” she asks.

Zayn shrugs and shakes his head. “Can’t be too intense, otherwise Lauren wouldn’t have let you get drunk last night.”

And it’s funny, because apparently Zayn thinks Lauren’s looking out for Camila, when it’s actually the other way around. Lauren doesn’t even look out for herself, she definitely doesn’t have time to watch Camila.

“I guess,” Camila says.

She looks at Lauren again. Their eyes lock for a moment, and Camila’s heart skips a beat when Lauren stops cleaning up and cracks a subtle smile. It’s not a, ‘Zayn Malik is talking to you,’ smile, but a, ‘We’re friends so I’m smiling at you,’ smile, which is way, way better.

The moment causes Camila to miss something Zayn says, because he has his phone out and looks at her like he just asked a question.

“Sorry?”

“Your Twitter username,” he says. “I said I’ll follow you.”

“Oh. @camilacabello97. It’s pretty obvious.” She pulls out her phone and opens the Twitter app. A few moments later there’s a new notification saying @zaynmalik just followed her.

**_sick party last night. met @camilacabello97, she’s really cool x_ **

Zayn puts his phone away and pats Camila’s leg as she tries to catch her breath. Okay, having Zayn Malik follow you is actually really, really cool. Having him mention you and call you cool—Camila’s not sure if she’s in love with Lauren or Zayn in this moment.

While her notifications blow up with new followers, Camila retweets Zayn tweet and attaches the only picture of them that looks decent and like they weren’t wasted. Lauren’s in the background of the picture with her thumbs up. She tags the both of them before putting her phone away. If Zayn can tweet about Lauren’s party, so can she.

The house is almost clean by now, and Lauren’s friends look like they’re ready to go. Zayn lifts Camila’s legs again to get off the couch, and she watches him walk up to Lauren and say something. She nods and says something back.

“You’re going to the studio,” he says, sitting back down, less than a minute later.

Camila sits up, not because she doesn’t want her legs on Zayn’s lap anymore, but because for some reason she feels like it would give Lauren the wrong impression. If she even cares.

“What?”

“Lauren’s got some studio time scheduled today. I just asked. Maybe I’ll run into you guys, since we’re signed with the same label. It’s how we know each other, in case you wondered. Lame label parties create great bonding opportunities.”

Camila had been wondering about that, but now that he’s explained it actually makes a lot of sense.

“Being a recording artist isn’t all fun and games,” he continues. “There’s a lot of obligations and sometimes your life doesn’t feel like your own anymore. Everyone needs something from you. People you work with aren’t just co-workers, their job depends on your success, and your success depends on how well they do their job. It’s a vicious circle of contracts and contacts, and no one really understands, except for other recording artists.”

Camila glances at Lauren again. She’s never thought of it like that, and hearing Zayn talk about it definitely opens her eyes to a lot more of Lauren’s hectic life.

Yeah, she knew this business was tough and seemed to drain the life out of Lauren, but somehow she never considered that maybe she just couldn’t get out. She just figured Lauren thought it was all worth it, or something.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to get all deep and emotional,” Zayn laughs. “Please don’t think I’m not happy with my life, because I am. I think most of us are. It’s just a lot more complicated than some other people’s.”

Right. They were talking about Zayn. He probably has no idea Camila’s mind wandered off to Lauren—again.

“I’m glad you’re not upset and all,” she says, smiling politely. “I’d hate if there wasn’t going to be a next album.”

Zayn winks at her playfully, and Camila’s about to tell him she’s not interested in him like that when Lauren saves her from an awkward conversation by plopping down—in Zayn’s lap.

She wraps her arms around his neck. “You’re not talking about me, are you?”

“I’m always talking about you, babe.” Zayn deadpans the entire thing, and it’s pretty obvious his use of that last word wasn’t intended to sound romantic, but Camila still feels a pang in her chest.

“Try writing a song and I’ll think about it,” Lauren says, and Camila hates how comfortable she is around him. It doesn’t make any sense—she’s only known Lauren for a couple days, and Zayn’s known her for much longer, but still. It sucks. Everyone, all these people she’s met since she’s been in LA, they all have an established relationship with Lauren. Whether it’s manager and client, or interviewer and popstar, or photographer and model, they’re all something less embarrassing than _fan_ and _idol_.

Camila doesn’t even realize she’s glaring at Zayn until she feels Lauren’s eyes on her. It’s not that she doesn’t like Zayn—she does, he’s great—she just doesn’t like _Zayn and Lauren_.

 Lauren looks away the second Camila locks their eyes, but Camila still sees the unreadable expression in those stunning green eyes.

“Zayn, give it up already, man. You’re not getting a threesome with those two,” one of Lauren’s friends says, and everyone starts laughing.

Normani comes by to save Camila’s heart from breaking even further. She pulls Lauren off of Zayn and pushes him towards the door. “You’re not getting that ride if you don’t hurry up and get your shit together right now.”

Camila shoots Normani a thankful look, but she’s not sure Normani understands it, or if she even sees it.

“Mila, come say bye,” Normani says, stretching out her arms.

Camila peels herself off the couch and finds out her hangover is, surprisingly, almost gone.

“Mila?” Lauren asks.

“Yeah. Camila, Mila. It’s better than _Camz_.”

Lauren pretends to be offended, and possessively wraps her arms around Camila. “I’m still gonna say Camz.”

Forcing herself to breathe normally, Camila pats Lauren’s arm. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Normani rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Have fun with _Camz_.” She gives Lauren a hug and then Camila, and before she lets her go, she whispers, “Thanks for taking caring of her.”

Camila looks over Normani’s shoulder at Lauren, who’s smoking a cigarette with Zayn, and she’s not sure how anyone could _not_ take care of her. Like this, she’s probably one of the best people in the world.

“No problem,” she whispers back.

Zayn waves at Camila and tells her they’ll be in touch before he gets into Normani’s car with everyone else.

Lauren sits down on the front steps leading up to the porch as they watch her friends leave, and Camila joins her.

“How’s your hangover?”

“Almost gone.”

Lauren studies her for a moment, blowing out smoke. “You know there’s nothing going on between Zayn and I, right?”

Camila blinks, her cheeks flushing a deep red. “What?”

“We’re just friends.” Lauren doesn’t meet her eyes, and she doesn’t say anything else until her cigarette is burned up and she gets up. “I’m gonna make breakfast, do you want anything?”

 

They don’t see Zayn at the studio. They do, however, see a producer and some other people, who are supposedly good at their work.

But all they’ve done so far is dismiss everything Lauren’s come up with, and bring up ideas that will definitely not make Lauren’s music better. More popular perhaps, but not better.

For the past three hours, Camila’s seen Lauren go from a happy, motivated girl to the person she was a few days ago, without being able to do anything about it.

She tried to, at first, because, “I think Lauren’s melody works really well with those chords,” which then got shot down by, “I know you’re trying to help, but creating music isn’t something just anybody can do. We’ve been trained for this, we know what we’re doing.” And Camila couldn’t really do anything about it, because just because she can play a little guitar doesn’t mean she knows a lot about making music.

All she knows right now is that she wants Lauren’s smile back.

Her phone buzzes once. She opens the notification.

**_studio time with camz @camilacabello97_ **

Camila opens the picture attached to Lauren’s tweet, and has to hold back a grin. In the picture she’s leaning against a table with sound equipment, and it looks like she really knows what she’s doing, unless you know she’s just staring at a blank wall because it’s better than listening to these idiots talk about Lauren like she’s not there.

She pokes Lauren with her foot and holds up her phone. Lauren gets the message immediately, and sits up a lot straighter than before.

Camila snaps a few pictures, which all sort of look the same except for a few details, and attaches the best one to a tweet. **_studio time with lo @LaurenJauregui_**

Lauren retweets it immediately.

“Lauren, are you paying attention? This is about your music, after all,” the producer says, looked slightly pissed.

“Really? I wouldn’t know,” Lauren mutters under her breath, looking extremely pissed. All the joy has vanished from her eyes again, and Camila wishes it was legal to strangle certain people.

“You’re not giving us a lot to work with here.”

Lauren’s hand tightens around her phone. “I’m _trying_ , but you think everything I come up with is too ‘complicated’ or not ‘pop’ enough for another hit. What about we start creating _good_ music instead of that shitty stuff you come up with just because it’ll sell?”

The producer gives her a tight lipped, impatient look. “Your label—”

“My label can go f—" Lauren catches herself just in time and shakes her head. “Whatever. Write what you think listeners want to hear. I don’t care. I’ll just do whatever.”

Camila has to resist the urge to reach out and grab Lauren’s hand for comfort, but they’re with other people, and she’s not sure she’s allowed to do such things, even in private.

“No,” the producer says. He gets up and opens the door to the recording part of the studio. “Go ahead. Play what you think will make a good addition to your album. I _honestly_ want to know what makes you think you know this business better than we do.”

Camila’s stomach sinks. This is bad. This is really bad. As much as she wants Lauren to make the music she wants to make, pissing off producers isn’t really the best way to get it. And she knows Lauren knows it, because even though she gets up and squares her shoulders, she lets out a shaky breath.

Without a word, Lauren moves past the producer into the studio, and puts a headphone on. She looks determined as she sits down behind the electric piano and runs her fingers over the keys.

The sound hasn’t been turned on yet, and for a moment Camila thinks they’re not going to turn it on, either. But then the room is filled with piano sounds and Lauren’s breath in the microphone.

“Ready when you are.” Lauren’s producer speaks into a microphone on this side of the glass, and Lauren’s head snaps up.

She gives him a single nod and whisper a count down. She hesitates. Then music fills the room.

Camila recognizes the song instantly—it’s the same one she heard in Lauren’s studio. It’s even better hearing Lauren sing it live.

But it’s messy. Lauren clearly feels the pressure because her voice is forced and tight, and her fingers miss the chords sometimes. When she’s done, she holds her head down and takes off the headphones so she can’t hear what the people on the other side of the glass are saying.

But Camila can.

“This won’t sell.” “We need something better.” “Did you hear that crack in her voice when she tried that high note?” “She was off key the whole time.” “We can use some elements, but definitely not the whole song.”

Camila really wishes it was socially acceptable to beat people up.

Lauren’s producer taps on the glass that separates them from Lauren, and gestures at her to come back inside. He doesn’t look happy at all.

Neither does Lauren.

“I didn’t have a chance to warm up my vocals,” is the first thing she says when she sits down, opposite of Camila. “I have a recording at home that’s much better than this.”

“Lauren, listen to me. It’s not that it’s a bad song. We just don’t think it’ll sell, and, ultimately, that’s what we’re trying to do here—create music that will hit the charts and boost your brand.”

Camila isn’t sure what she expected of Lauren. Anger, or sadness, perhaps. Instead, she doesn’t even put up a fight. She just slumps in her seat and brushes it off with a wave of her hand.

“Okay, I understand.”

“Good. Now let’s get back to business, we’ve wasted enough time already.”

Camila tries to make eye contact with Lauren to see if she’s okay, but Lauren won’t look at her. She stares down at her hands and nods along to everything the songwriters and producers are saying. She doesn’t even try to look okay, but no one notices—except Camila.

 

They drive home in silence. Lauren doesn’t even give Camila the opportunity to say something by cranking up the music so much any attempts at a conversation fall flat.

“Lauren,” Camila says as they get out of Lauren’s car. “Please talk to me.”

Lauren looks at her with a dead look in her eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about.” Before Camila can reply, she races up the stairs. When Camila follows her a minute later, her bedroom door is locked.

She knocks twice. “If you want to talk, I’m here.”

Lauren stays silent.

Camila leans her forehead against the wood for a moment. Just a few hours ago they were laughing together, and now Lauren won’t even talk to her. _Great_. They’re literally back to where they were.

If only Lauren just communicated this could all be fixed. If she just opened up and allowed herself to show weakness—but no she was Lauren fucking Jauregui and Lauren Jauregui didn’t do that shit.

Not knowing what else to do, Camila sits down next to Lauren’s door and leans her back against the wall. She pulls out her phone to text Ally for advice, and ends up playing a game while she waits for Lauren to come out.

It doesn’t happen.

After an hour, Camila decides to give up. She scrambles to her feet and goes downstairs to get herself some food.

There isn’t much, but it’s enough to make a somewhat decent meal for two. Not wanting to bother Lauren about food, too, she puts half of it in the fridge and writes a note so Lauren will know there’s food if she wants any.

It’s nearly 9 PM when Lauren comes down the stairs, dressed in black skinny jeans and a black T-shirt. Her makeup is heavy, especially around her eyes, and her lips are a dark red. She casts a glance in Camila’s way, but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge her.

And Camila’s tired of being the only one trying to make this week a little less terrible. So she doesn’t say anything. She just watches Lauren move around the house from the couch, pretending to be reading one of Lauren’s many books.

Lauren sits down at the kitchen island and picks up Camila’s note, after which she warms up the food left in the fridge for her. She looks pleasantly surprised upon eating it, but it’s clearly not enough to verbally thank Camila.

Camila bites her tongue, determined not to say a word and just let Lauren do her thing, but when the other girl starts walking up the stairs again, she lets her name slip through. “Lauren.”

A suppressed sigh fills the room. “What?”

“How are you?”

Lauren backs down slowly, blinking. “I’m fine.”

“You can be honest with me,” Camila says, putting her book away.

Lauren’s eyes narrow. “What do you want, Camila?”

She think about that for a while. “Just—we were okay this morning, and now we’re just… not. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Lauren admits. She leans against the staircase post, running her hand through her hair. “Today was just a really bad day, I guess.”

And Camila wants to be okay with that. She really does. But, “That doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me. I did nothing wrong. I’m just trying to help.”

The moment she says it, Camila realizes she shouldn’t have. A heavy silence falls over the room, and Lauren’s jaw clenches—hands gripping the banister so tightly her knuckles turn white.

“I’m fine,” she says, voice clipped and with a razor sharp edge. “I don’t need your help.”

“Lauren, I’m—” Camila tries, but she already lost the battle. She can see it in Lauren’s eyes, her body language, everything. And there’s a look in those eyes, one that’s almost venomous. If looks could kill, Camila would be dead right now.

She’s not sure why Lauren’s so adamant about not needing help. But she is.

“No. No, shut up right now. Do you think I haven’t seen you looking at me? I’m not blind, I’ve seen the way you look at me. But I don’t need it. I don’t need your pity, or you caring about me, or _anything_ from you. I’ve survived on my own for nineteen years. And _two_ of those years have been absolute hell, but I’m still here, aren’t I? I don’t need you. I didn’t need you then, and I don’t need you now.” Lauren points at Camila, at the studio, at everything. Her hands are shaking and with every word she says, her voice gets louder. “Who do you think you are, to barge in here like you know me? You don’t know _anything about me_ , absolutely nothing. I never wanted you to be here. ‘Oh, but she’s a fan,’” she’s mocking Briana now. “’She’ll do anything you ask, and it’s good publicity. God knows you need some.’ Well, guess what? I don’t give a fuck. I didn’t ask for this. _Any_ of this. Just—fuck off to where you came from, okay? I don’t want your fucking help. I just want you to fuck off.”

Camila’s frozen, completely at a loss of words. Her eyes are wide as she stares at Lauren’s sudden outburst. Out of everything, this was the last thing she expected.

It’s unfair, really, and Lauren’s words cause her blood to boil. None of anything that’s causing Lauren so much pain is her fault, but here she is, forced to take the blame for it.

She opens her mouth to retort, to shoot back venomous and painful words, but Lauren doesn’t wait for her to catch up. She flips her middle finger in the air, and forcefully pulls open the front door.

Camila leaps off the couch to grab her, to keep her right where she is, but when she reaches the wide open door, Lauren’s taillights are just disappearing around the corner.

 

Camila’s almost asleep when her phone buzzes. She reaches under her pillow and opens one eye, squinting against the bright light of her screen. An unknown number is calling her, and she’s inclined to throw her phone against the wall and go back to sleep, but something inside her makes her pick up.

“Hey, it’s Mila.”

For a moment there’s nothing but heavy breathing, and maybe incoherent sobbing. And then, “Camz, help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the kudos and comments, i highly appreciate them all! by the way, the title comes from halsey's gasoline. and also, fifth harmony is going to be performing in amsterdam in four days. let me know what you think of the chapter :)


	5. day 5

It takes Camila a few seconds to figure out who she’s talking to, but then, “Lauren?”

“Y-yeah,” Lauren sniffles. “I—something’s wrong. I need—can you—I can’t—”

Camila draws in a sharp breath, and she swears her heart stops beating in her chest. With cold, anxious blood she says, as calmly as possible, “Lo, try to breathe.”

On the other side of the line, Lauren’s breath is quick and shallow. Every now and then she grinds her teeth to the point of Camila wanting to throw her phone out the window.

“I can’t—” Lauren says, a slightly desperate tone in her voice. “I need to go home, I can’t—” Her breath quickens again, and a loud bang tells Camila she either hit or kicked something.

“Lauren,” Camila says sternly. “Focus on my voice. Can you do that? Yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Now breathe with me. In and out, slowly.”

Camila makes a point of breathing as loudly as she can, hoping Lauren can hear her loud and clear. It takes a while for the other girl to breathe normally again, and the entire time Camila feels a paralyzing fear creeping up her spine.

“I’m okay,” Lauren says, eventually. “I’m okay.”

Camila lets out a relieved sigh. “What’s going on, Lauren?”

“I took XTC.”

Camila’s mind races. “You did _what_?”

“XTC. Can you come pick me up? I feel like I’m gonna die.” Lauren’s breathing hitches again for a second, but she gets herself together before Camila can say anything about it.

Camila closes her eyes for a moment. This wasn’t what she expected. Yes, she’d seen Lauren go overboard with alcohol, but drugs? Actual hard drugs that could potentially be really dangerous? She’d never expected Lauren to stoop that low.

“I don’t have a car,” she says. Now that the initial shock is over, she feels pissed more than anything. She just doesn’t understand—

“I have two. It’s the black one on the other side of the road. The keys are in the hallway.”

For less than a second, Camila’s inclined to say no and just let Lauren deal with her own problems, like she wanted. But she can hear teeth grinding and feet tapping and fear in Lauren’s voice. So she nods and slips out of bed. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

Lauren says the name of some club, and of course Camila has no idea where it is. She opens her laptop to google it, and it’s not even that far away from Lauren’s house. But she’d rather Lauren wait at the club than have her drive herself home.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Call me if anything happens, alright?”

Lauren sniffles and promises to call, and Camila hangs up. She sinks her head into her hands and groans. “Fucking hell, Lauren.”

After changing into actual clothes and making the mistake of googling the effects of XTC, she runs down the stairs to find Lauren’s car keys. As it turns out, they’re on the rack with the rest of Lauren’s keys—obviously.

Lauren’s car is, indeed, black, and a little less fancy than the one she usually drives. Still, it’s probably worth more than Camila could ever afford, with blinded windows and light leather covering the seats.

She tells Siri to lead the way, and puts the car in drive. As she races through the still busy streets of LA, she almost forgets why she’s out of bed in the first place.

Part of her wants to call Ally to see if she knows what to do if the girl you’re sort of in love with calls you in the middle of the night to pick her up because she took hard drugs, but then she remembers the time difference and decides not to wake her friend over something she can’t do anything about anyway.

And she read things on the internet about XTC, so she totally knows what she’s doing.

She reaches the club twenty-five minutes after Lauren’s phone call, and suddenly she loses all confidence. What if Lauren’s really fucked up and needs medical care? What if she doesn’t realize Lauren’s really fucked up and needs medical care, and she dies? What if—

No.

Lauren’s fine. She has to be.

With newfound determination, Camila gets out of the car and pulls out her phone. Lauren isn’t anywhere to be seen, and she doesn’t plan on staying here any longer than absolutely necessary.

For the first time since she got to LA, Camila goes down to the L in her contact list, and actually finds ‘Lauren Jauregui’ as a contact. She taps it.

Lauren picks up after one dial. “Camz?”

“I’m outside the club. Where are you?”

“At the back,” Lauren says. “It’s nice out here.”

“Don’t move. I’ll be right there.”

She pushes her phone into her pocket, and starts walking around the building. It’s dark and scary, and she’s not entirely sure Lauren’s worth being killed over by invisible demons, when she rounds the corner.

Lauren’s leaning against the wall, a lit cigarette in the corner of her mouth. She looks perfectly fine, aside from the obvious tension in—literally—almost every single one of her muscles, and the weird, continuous twitch in her fingers.

Her face lights up when she sees Camila, and she gets up to give her a hug. “Camz.”

“I’m here,” Camila says, slightly taken aback by how unfocused Lauren’s eyes are. “Are you okay?”

Lauren still hasn’t let go of Camila yet, stroking her fingertips up and down her arm. “Yeah. I had a bad moment, but I’m fine now.”

Camila looks down at where Lauren’s hand is still on her arm, forcing herself to look up at Lauren’s face—although honestly, it still doesn’t really make her knees feel any less weak. “Great. Let’s go home now. It’s, like, 2 AM.”

Lauren pouts. “Can we stay for a little while longer? It’s so nice and peaceful out here.”

Camila thinks about Briana’s inevitable speech in the morning, and how drowsy they’re both gonna be after so little sleep. But Lauren’s looking at her with green puppy eyes and their fingers are laced together and Lauren’s running her thumb over the back of her hand. It really isn’t fair.

“Just a little while.” Lauren’s voice is, even if it’s still shaky, raspier than ever.

Camila feels her insides turn to mush and she has to resist the urge to kiss Lauren now more than ever. Because if she leaned in now, chances are Lauren would kiss her back, but for all the wrong reasons.

“Want a drag?” Lauren asks, holding up her cigarette for Camila.

“No. I don’t smoke.”

Lauren smiles sadly. “I do.”

It’s strange and it’s messed up, but Lauren’s still touching her. She hasn’t let go once since Camila got here. And Camila knows it’s the drugs that make her want to touch everything, but she can’t ignore the tiny voice in the back of her head that maybe Lauren likes her back.

They sit down on the ground, mainly because Camila’s not sure she’s awake yet, and Lauren keeps leaning her head on Camila’s shoulder and it’s starting to get heavy.

Lauren keeps her fingers laced with Camila’s, though, and it’s the most at peace they’ve been since they met. It reminds Camila of two nights ago, when they were both drunk and held hands through most of the night. Unfortunately drugs or alcohol seem to be the only way to accomplish that.

It’s quiet for a while. Lauren finishes her cigarette and presses the butt against the concrete. She plays with Camila’s hand, running her fingertips all over the skin, causing tingly sensations. Camila’s not sure if she can keep doing this for much longer without kissing her.

“Camz?” Lauren says, eventually. She sounds calmer now.

“Lauren.”

“Thank you for coming.”

Camila turns, meeting Lauren’s eyes. They’re bright green in the TL light, and full of honesty. They cause Camila’s heart to skip a beat. They make her stomach feel like it’s full of butterflies. She smiles and touches Lauren’s cheek. “Of course.”

Lauren doesn’t move when Camila reaches up to cup her cheek, and Camila doesn’t pull away. For a moment, she’s convinced they’re gonna kiss.

But then Lauren lets out a soft sigh, and looks away. “Camz, I’m sorry.”

And Camila’s heart clenches, because she half expects a speech about how Lauren knows she’s falling for her but how she’ll never be able to return those feelings because she’s just not into girls like that.

Instead she gets, “I’ve been a bitch to you, and you totally didn’t deserve any of that. You’re, like, the only person who hasn’t stopped being my friend after I lashed out to them.”

Camila bites her lip. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Lauren pulls her hand out of Camila’s and sits up, facing her. “Meeting new people is hard for me, especially now that everyone seems to know my name. I keep thinking they want something from me, or want me to be someone I’m not. I keep waiting for them to reveal their true intentions and tell the world about the spoiled bitch that is Lauren Jauregui. So I push everyone away to prevent that from happening.”

Camila tries to come up with the best way to reply to Lauren’s honesty, but it’s hard. For the first time Lauren’s really opening up, and she doesn’t want to ruin it by saying the wrong thing. Luckily, she doesn’t have to.

“I haven’t really felt comfortable enough around anyone to talk about feelings,” Lauren continues. “Like, I talk to Mani about things sometimes, and she’s a great support, but she doesn’t really understand, if you know what I mean. And there’s Zayn, and he does understand, but he’s not great at talking about feelings either, so usually we just crack jokes and mess with each other. They’re really my only true friends, I think.”

“I don’t understand either,” Camila says softly. “I mean, I’m just some high school graduate from Miami who hasn’t seen a lot of the world yet.”

Lauren looks at her, and there’s an unreadable look in her eyes. “But you listen. You care about what I have to say, and you try to understand.” She jabs her finger at Camila’s chest, right where her heart is. “You care.”

“There’s more people that care, Lauren. Mani cares. Zayn cares. I’m sure even Briana cares.”

Lauren huffs at the mention of Briana’s name. “All she cares about it selling records and keeping my good name up. Even this contest is part of her strategy to make me look super desirable, like I’m some angel who cares so much about her fans she wants to have someone live in her house for a week.”

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t mean you. You’re my friend. Just because you have my album on your phone and posters of me all over your bedroom wall doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”

Camila stifles a laugh. “I don’t have posters of you all over my bedroom wall… I just have, like, one or two.”

Lauren laughs, too. She stopped grinding her teeth as much, and her fingers aren’t twitching anymore. “Hopefully you don’t hate me enough to tear them down when you get home.”

“I could never hate you,” Camila blurts out.

“Even though I told you to fuck off?”

“Even though you told me to fuck off.”

A silence falls over them, and Camila forces herself not to turn and stare at Lauren. She focuses on the wall opposite of them, trying to ignore the way her stomach jumps every time Lauren breaths.

“Camz,” Lauren whispers.

When Camila looks up, Lauren’s really close. So close she can see different shades of green in her eyes, and nothing else. Her own eyes flutter closed without permission, as if they know what’s to come.

It’s not a surprise when Lauren’s lips touch hers, but Camila’s heart still skips a beat. She feels a cool hand at the base of her neck, pulling her closer. She feels a second hand reach up and tangle with her hair. And she feels Lauren’s tongue darting into her mouth, finding her own.

Camila doesn’t make the conscious decision to kiss Lauren back, not really. She’s not even fully aware of what her own body is doing until she tangles her fingers with Lauren’s hair, and runs her tongue over Lauren’s lips, and breathes in the scent of Lauren’s perfume.

Lauren tastes like cigarettes and alcohol, but there’s also something sweet, and it’s that sweetness that Camila craves. It’s that sweetness that makes her kiss Lauren until she runs out of breath and is forced to pull back.

Lauren doesn’t move, though. She leans her forehead against Camila’s, and stays there until they both catch their breath.

“Was… was that okay?”

Camila nods, still at a loss of words. The movement makes Lauren giggle, and she pulls away.

“You’re a good kisser,” she says.

“Really? Because—” And Camila feels her cheeks flush, “that was my first kiss.”

Lauren giggles again. “I’m flattered.”

But now that the realization hit Camila, she can’t stop thinking about it. Lauren Jauregui was her first kiss. She, Camila Cabello, just had her first kiss, with _Lauren Jauregui_.

She can’t wait to tell Dinah and Ally about this.

Unfortunately, the euphoric moment doesn’t last long. One second Lauren’s close and smiling, the next her eyes roll to the back of her head and she’s struggling to get up. Her grip on Camila’s hand tightens right before she scrambles to her feet and takes a few steps.

Camila watches with paralyzing fear as Lauren doubles over and dry-heaves a few times before vomiting.

It’s not until she notices Lauren fumbling with her hair to keep it out of her face that she jumps up and walks over to the girl. She grabs as much hair as she can and holds it back, hoping there isn’t any vomit in it yet.

“I got you,” she says with a shaky voice, squeezing Lauren’s shoulder. “I got you, Lo.”

Once she gets over her initial fear, Camila manages to calm herself down as much as possible. Vomiting is one of the side effects of taking XTC, she thinks repeatedly. There’s nothing wrong with Lauren, she’s just experiencing some difficulties after using drugs. Just like amorous feelings are a side effect.

When it’s over and Lauren doesn’t look like she going to throw up any more, Camila takes her hand and leads her to the car. Neither of them says anything until they’re sitting next to each other.

“Sorry, that wasn’t very romantic,” Lauren says, her voice raspier than ever. Her cheeks are flushed and when Camila reaches over, her skin feels warm.

“It’s not your fault.” Camila starts the car, steering them on the road towards Lauren’s house. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Lauren frowns. “I’m not sure I am. I never took XTC before.”

“Are you nauseous at all?”

“A little.”

“It’s a side effect.” Camila reaches over the console to grab Lauren’s hand, not for romantic purposes but because this way she’ll know immediately when something’s really wrong. Fortunately, Lauren doesn’t object.

“How do you know that?”

Without taking her eyes off the road, Camila cracks a sad smile. “I did some research after you called me. Figured I should know what I’m walking into.”

They don’t talk until they reach Lauren’s house, but they squeeze each other’s hand every now and then. For Camila, it’s a sign that Lauren’s body is still functioning as normally as possible.

“You need to drink a lot of water,” she tells her, pulling her to the kitchen. “Maybe you don’t feel it, but XTC causes dehydration, and so does alcohol.”

Lauren lets herself be put down on one of the bar stools while Camila grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and uncaps it. “Drink this.”

Lauren obliges with guilty eyes. But Camila isn’t mad. Maybe at first, but she realized it’s impossible for her to stay mad at Lauren for anything. Even if ‘anything’ includes doing drugs.

Three bottles of water later, Camila finally allows Lauren to stop drinking. “And Lo? Promise me you’ll never do drugs again.”

Lauren nods immediately. “Promise.”

“Good.” Camila throws out the last bottle, before turning back to Lauren, who looks like she’s about to pass out. And as much as Camila wants to stay up and talk, she also wants Lauren to sleep through whatever she’s feeling—which, judging by the semi-dead look in her eyes, isn’t great.

“Let’s get you to bed,” she mumbles.

Somehow their hands end up intertwined again as they walk up the stairs and into Lauren’s bedroom. Camila sits on Lauren’s bed while Lauren gets changed in the bathroom, not daring to leave the room in case anything happens. But nothing happens, and after a few minutes Lauren emerges from the bathroom with no makeup on and in pajamas.

The whole thing reminds Camila of the first night, when she had to put Lauren to bed as well, and she can’t believe it’s only been five days.

Five days ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed Lauren would be kissing her. Now she can’t stop thinking about it.

“Are you gonna be okay?” she asks, stroking a strand of hair out of Lauren’s face.

The other girl nods. “I think so. Thanks for everything.”

Camila smiles. “Always.” She kisses the top of Lauren’s head and gets up to turn off the lights. “Good night, Lo.”

She’s almost at the door when Lauren’s voice stops her. “Camz, will you come back?”

She hesitates. As much as she wants to, part of her still worries about Lauren going back to the grumpy version of herself in the morning, and she’s not sure she’s ready to let tonight go yet. But, “Yeah, of course.”

“Okay.”

Camila crosses the hallway to her room and quickly changes back into pajamas. After brushing her teeth for the second time tonight, she darts back into Lauren’s room.

“Lo, are you still awake?” she whispers.

“Yeah,” comes the soft reply. “I was waiting for you to come back.”

Camila tries to ignore the way her heart flutters as she climbs under the covers with Lauren. For a moment, there’s a slight confusion about their position, but then, almost naturally, Camila wraps her arms around Lauren’s waist and presses her face against Lauren’s hair.

Lauren lets out a content sigh, completely relaxed for the first time that night. “Good night, Camz.”

“Night, Lo.”

 

When Camila wakes up the next morning, it takes her less than a second to realize the bed is empty. She rolls on her back, trying to ignore the loud _thump thump_ of her heart against her chest. It doesn’t make sense that she’s upset about this. She shouldn’t have expected otherwise. The only reason Lauren was affectionate and open last night was because she took fucking XTC.

She stares at the ceiling, wondering why she’s letting this girl—a stranger, really—get to her this much. It’s not like they’ll ever talk after she leaves for Miami. The only reason her phone now even has ‘Lauren Jauregui’ has a contact is because Lauren decided to get fucked up and needed someone to take her home. Of course she doesn’t care about her—Camila’s just a convenience.

She’s about to roll out of bed, not wanting to stay there any longer, when the bathroom door opens. Footsteps approach the bed, and, because she’s Camila and she has a gift for making things awkward, she squeezes her eyes shut again.

To her surprise, Lauren lifts the covers and crawls back in bed, scooting over to her right until she’s close enough to snake her arms around Camila’s waist.

Wait, what?

Camila puts all her effort into not revealing that she’s actually awake—which includes forcing herself to relax under Lauren’s touch, breathe steady, and just generally pretend a very sober Lauren didn’t just willingly start cuddling her.

It takes all Camila’s willpower to stay calm. Out of every scenario she considers a possibility, even Lauren being kidnapped and brainwashed by aliens seems to be a more logical explanation for whatever is going on here.

Because the alternative is that Lauren Jauregui actually likes her, and that can’t be true. Not after the verbal smack down of last night. Not after the constant cold glares and distant replies. Just—no.

But with Lauren’s face pressed into her shoulder, and her arm draped over her stomach, it’s hard to be reasonable.

“Lo,” she whispers, lifting her hand to cover Lauren’s. It’s cold, probably from washing her hands earlier, and she reaches out to pull the covers up higher.

Lauren doesn’t move, and, judging by her calm and steady breath, she’s fallen back asleep.

Camila closes her eyes, too, resting her head on top of Lauren’s. She buries her nose in her hair and sighs contently, barely able to fight the smile that’s tugging her lips.

 

The next time Camila wakes up, it’s because someone tugs at her hair, and then says, “Shit.”

She blinks, and the first thing she sees is a lot of dark hair that definitely doesn’t belong to her. “Lauren?”

“Shit,” Lauren repeats, brushing her hair out of Camila’s face. “I didn’t mean for you to wake up. You just had this hair that was almost in your eyes and even though you were asleep I’d hate for you to wake up with hair in your eyes, because that shit hurts and—”

“Hey,” Camila interrupts. “It’s okay. It’s probably time to wake up anyway.”

Lauren lets herself fall back next to Camila—although she’s so close it’s basically _on_ Camila—and shakes her head. “No, it’s time to sleep some more.”

“Says the girl that woke up before I did.” Camila rubs her face with the back of her hand. “What time is it anyway?”

“Time to sleep. It’s my one day off this week, I want to use it well.”

“By sleeping? You live in LA, I’m sure there’s better things to do.” Camila tries to sit up, but Lauren’s easily pins her down with one arm. Clearly she works out a lot more than Camila.

“LA isn’t that exciting. We have beaches in Miami, too, and you can’t actually go up to the Hollywood sign. We’re sleeping in today.”

Camila pretends to struggle against Lauren’s grip, but all too soon she ‘gives up’ and buries her face in Lauren’s hair. “Whatever.”

“Yay, I win.”

“I wasn’t aware this was a contest,” Camila murmurs, feigning sleep.

Lauren doesn’t say anything for a moment or two, and then, really softly, “I’m the prize.”

Camila opens one eye. “What?”

“I’m the prize,” Lauren repeats, a little louder this time. “Of the radio contest you participated in. All those people that called them when my song played, they all wanted to meet me and spend time with me. And I’m—I’m a shitty host, a disappointment.”

“What are you talking about?” Camila frowns. “Where is this coming from? You’re not a disappointment. A shitty host, perhaps, but not a disappointment.”

Lauren gives her a sad smile. “I left you alone on most nights. And last night—”

“Last night was a mistake.”

Lauren’s face falls, and she pulls away. “You think so?”

“Yeah. I mean, you felt really bad, and stuff, right? And you said you won’t do it again. Sounds like a mistake to me.”

Lauren rolls over, stepping out of bed to face the window. She crosses her arms over her chest, her back towards Camila. Her voice is soft when she speaks again. “I wasn’t talking about the drugs.”

And, “Oh,” because, _Oh_. As in, “You mean… that kiss?”

Lauren huffs. “No, I mean the three bottles of water I drank that made me get up at least four times to pee throughout the night.”

Camila takes a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm and not react to Lauren’s sarcastic and somewhat painful retort. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”

Lauren turns around, an unreadable expression written all over her face. “I was high, Camila, not drunk.”

“Hey, I don’t know what drugs do to you,” Camila says, defensively. This isn’t how she expected this conversation to go, though she isn’t sure what she did expect. “Do you think it was a mistake?”

For the first time that morning, Lauren’s eyes flicker up to meet her own. “No.”

Camila feels her lips curl up into a smile. “Me either. I just thought, because of the drugs and because you’re not into girls—”

“I am into girls,” Lauren says. Now that the elephant is out of the room, she’s visibly more relaxed. She even takes a step closer to Camila again. “I just never explicitly stated it in the media. I’m very much into girls.”

And it’s in that moment, when Lauren’s eyes are so honest and open, that Camila allows herself to acknowledge how much she’s fallen in love with her. Which, to be honest, is way too much. As in so much that if Lauren decided to hop on a rocket and fly to Mars to build a life there, she’d blindly follow her. As in so much that if Lauren would reveal her true nature as an undead creature, she’d let herself be bitten. As in so much that she forgets the world around them every time Lauren even so much as looks at her.

So much that all she can say is, “Oh.”

But Lauren isn’t content with that answer. She steps forward to sit on the bed, pulling one leg up to her chin. “Is that okay with you?”

Camila frowns. She distinctively remembers kissing Lauren back last night. If she weren’t okay with Lauren being into girls, that would be the most hypocritical thing in the entirety of the universe.

So she nods. “Yeah, of course. Me too, I guess.”

Relief washes over Lauren’s face, and she relaxes. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“Sexuality is very confusing,” Camila admits with a shrug. “I still don’t know if I like guys, too, or just girls, or just everyone. I feel like I like everyone, but what if I say I’m one thing and then it turns out I’m actually something else?”

“At least you don’t have the whole world watching,” Lauren says in a whisper. She looks down at her hands—they’re trembling. “I have no idea what to tell everyone if I haven’t even figured it out myself.”

Without thinking, Camila reaches out and takes Lauren’s hands between her own. It sends thousands of tiny lightning bolts down her spine, but she ignores them the best she can. “So don’t tell them anything. They— _we_ —aren’t entitled to any part of your life, not even your music. Just because we keep bugging you on social media, doesn’t mean we don’t want you to be anything but happy.”

Lauren looks up when Camila corrects herself, shaking her head. “I don’t consider you just a fan anymore.”

“I don’t consider you just my idol anymore, either,” Camila smiles. “But I’m serious. _You_ decide what you want to share with the world, or with anyone, really. And that includes whether you like girls, or boys, or both.”

It’s quiet for a while, though the silence isn’t awkward. They’re both just deep in thought, Camila figures. There’s a lot to think about, her feelings for Lauren being just one thing. Because as much as she’d like to follow her to the end of the world, their week together is already halfway over. In two days she’ll be flying home to Miami, and Lauren will stay in LA.

“Did you tell anyone yet?” Lauren asks, pulling Camila out of her thoughts.

“I talked about it with some friends,” Camila says. Ally and Dinah had literally been the most supportive friends when she told them she might be bi or pan or whatever, and they were serious for a few minutes while they told her it really didn’t matter to them who she liked, as long as they made her happy. And then Dinah, because she’s, well, Dinah, pointed at the XXL poster of Lauren on the wall next to her bed, and said, “It’s not really a surprise, though.”

But Camila doesn’t tell Lauren that. “And my mom asked me about it, once.” Also because of her extreme obsession with Lauren.

It’s funny, how everything comes full circle. Lauren is the reason she started doubting her sexuality—and Demi Lovato, because _come on_ —and Lauren is the one that confirms part of those doubts for her.

“I told my parents, too,” Lauren says, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “One time I made out with this girl in high school, and I swear, I’ve never seen fireworks when I kissed someone, but holy shit, that was pretty close. So when they wanted to know why I looked like I’d won the lottery when I got home, I just blurted it out. They’re okay with it.”

Camila tries to ignore the jealous pang in her chest towards the stranger girl from Lauren’s high school. She’s just part of Lauren’s coming out story. But she still steers the conversation to a safer topic. “Does Mani know?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. We had an obligated talk after she caught me lip locking with one of her friends.” Lauren chuckles at the memory, before turning serious again. “You know what the most annoying thing is? You think you come out once and that’s it, right? But it never stops. You never stop having to come out. People always assume you’re straight, and they always ask questions about boys. And sometimes I just want to scream, ‘I’m not into boys!’ at them, but then I’ll become Lauren Lesbian Jauregui, and that’s not the most ideal scenario either.”

“I bet the press would have a field day with that.”

“If girls weren’t this great I’d really hate being into them,” Lauren says. And then, almost shyly, “You’re pretty great, too.”

And Camila nearly chokes on air, because did Lauren seriously just indirectly tell her she’s into her?

“Uh…” she stammers, trying to remember how to speak. Her tongue is heavy, her chest beating so hard she can barely think.

Fortunately Lauren has better game than her. She reaches up to place her hand on Camila’s cheek, and gives her the kindest smile yet. “Can I kiss you?”

Camila, still unable to speak, nods. She leans forward, meeting Lauren’s lips halfway.

There’s definitely fireworks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the long wait, guys, but i met fifth harmony last week and i'm still crying about it. lauren's so beautiful and soft, and ally looked at me like i was made of pure gold, and dinah did a slut drop, and mani loves me, and mila told me to smile, and i miss them so much. anyway, this chapter is definitely my favorite i've written so far, hopefully yall like it too. let me know what you think, and thank you so much for all the kudos and comments—it honestly makes me smile so much.


	6. day 6

There’s something awfully domestic about making breakfast together, Camila decides. Lauren’s to her left, making pancake batter from scratch, while she watches and wonders why Lauren doesn’t have her own cooking show.

Yesterday was Lauren’s day off, and after they finally pulled their asses out of bed they spent most of the day by the pool, filling the day with conversations about things that mattered and things that didn’t. But they have a red carpet event later today, so they didn’t stay up too late last night.

“Any idea what you’ll be wearing yet?” Camila asks, hopping on the counter.

Lauren shakes her head. “Usually my stylist picks two outfits and pretends I have a choice when I really don’t.” She looks up and smiles reassuringly. “I’m sure they’ll have something for you, too. It’s not like this thing wasn’t planned way before you entered that contest—they knew I was gonna bring a plus one no matter the case.”

Camila thinks about Briana’s words on the first day. This contest isn’t about her, it was about Lauren and the company. Everyone knew she was in LA, obviously it was gonna look sketchy if she didn’t show up at Lauren’s side to this red carpet event.

“I hope I don’t mess up. I have a tendency to make things awkward,” she says, frowning.

“You won’t.” Lauren cracks an egg, and stirs the batter. She’s making the whole thing by heart, and Camila’s seriously impressed. She was sure Ally was the best cook she knew, but Lauren’s doing pretty great so far.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not you.” Lauren swirls around and grabs her phone with the hand that isn’t covered in pancake batter. She opens the Snapchat app and takes a picture of her creation.

“It’s for PR,” she explains, when she catches Camila looking at her with raised eyebrows. “I’m not really into social media, but they figured it’s the best way to connect with the fans. Usually I pretend to forget my phone has other purposes than calling and texting, but once in a while I want to show off.”

“Show off your face?” Camila says in an attempt to flirt.

Lauren chuckles. “Of course. Selfie?”

She pushes Camila’s knees apart and stands between them so they can take a selfie. Camila’s heart is racing as she leans forward, wrapping her arms around Lauren’s neck. In an impulse, she presses her lips against her cheek.

“They’re gonna love this,” Lauren says, posting the picture in her snap story. Then, before she goes back to making pancakes, she hands her phone to Camila. “Add yourself on my Snapchat, then we can send each other weird pictures when you go back to Miami.”

It’s the first time either of them acknowledges their week together is gonna end out loud, and Camila’s stomach clenches at the realization. In two days she’ll be on her way home. As much as she misses her family and friends, she’s going to miss Lauren, too.

At least Lauren still wants to keep in touch. Compared to a few days ago, that’s a major improvement.

She sighs quietly and glances up at Lauren, who doesn’t look the least bit bothered. Perhaps that’s a sign Camila’s way more into Lauren than Lauren is into her. Not that she expected it any other way. For the first four, maybe even five days they knew each other Lauren didn’t even like her as a person. Of course she’s not going to fall in love with her in less than a day. Just because _she_ ’s that kind of person doesn’t mean Lauren is, too.

Camila fumbles with Lauren’s phone for a bit. She opens the Twitter app to see what it’s like to be a verified user, and flips through the home screens to see what kind of apps Lauren has. For a moment, she’s tempted to look at Lauren’s contact list and steal a bunch of cool people’s phone number, but that’d probably end anything good that’s been building up between them, so she locks the phone and sets it next to her on the counter.

“Do you want anything in your pancakes?”

She shakes her head. “Unless you want anything.”

“Nope, I’m okay.”

They don’t talk while Lauren bakes the pancakes, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Maybe Camila stares at her a little too long sometimes, but one time she catches Lauren staring at her, too, so that sort of makes it okay.

When the pancakes are done, Camila climbs off the counter. She doesn’t jump—she’s way too clumsy to not accidentally die while doing that, and that’s not an activity she wants to do with Lauren. She can’t imagine Briana would like that very much.

“Can you grab the syrup from that cabinet?” Lauren asks, equally dividing the pancakes over their plates.

Camila does as she’s asked, and when she turns back, she catches Lauren doing something that looks a lot like staring at her ass.

Lauren’s cheeks turn a little red, and she mumbles something that sounds like, “I hope these are edible,” while rushing to the kitchen island.

Camila’s pretty sure she did just jump off the counter and got herself killed, because scenarios like these only happen in her dreams. She decides not to make a big deal out of it—she doesn’t want to fill the room with awkwardness once more. They haven’t even kissed since yesterday morning.

Lauren’s looking at her anxiously, either because she’s waiting for Camila to acknowledge the obvious staring, or because she wants to know her opinion on the pancakes.

Camila takes a bite. “These are really good.”

It doesn’t help much, but Lauren’s shoulders relax a bit, and she starts eating, too.

Camila wishes their relationship went beyond, “We like each other and sometimes we kiss,” but with just two days left she can’t see how that would work. They wouldn’t even have time to go on a proper date, with the red carpet event tonight and the plane to Miami tomorrow.

They eat in silence, catching each other’s eyes every now and then. It makes Lauren blush every time, and Camila feel like she’s floating. For the first time since she arrived in LA, she feels somewhat in control of her feelings. Knowing Lauren likes her back makes it less painful to be hopelessly in love with her.

 

After breakfast, they separate for a bit to get ready for the day. Camila throws on actual clothes and brushes her teeth. Her suitcase is filled up with dirty outfits, and her heart sinks for a moment as she allows herself to fully realize her limited time with Lauren is almost up.

Tears fill up her eyes and threaten to ruin her makeup when her phone rings. Blinking the sadness away, she looks at the caller ID and smiles.

“Ally! Hi!”

“Milaaaa,” Ally laughs, drawing out the last syllable. “My class got cancelled so I thought I’d call my favorite Latina.”

Camila closes her eyes for a moment. She misses Ally so much. Ally is the one person who’s always been there for her, who possesses the unique ability to be brutally honest and sweet at the same time, and Camila isn’t used to not having her around.

“I’m glad you called, I miss you a lot,” she says, wishing she could reach through the phone and wrap Ally into a hug. “We need to have a sleepover when I get back.”

“Dinah and I decided to go with your parents to pick you up from the airport,” Ally says. “We didn’t want to risk not seeing you tomorrow.”

She sounds so happy that Camila’s coming back it almost hurts. Because as much as she wants to go back home and see her friends and family again—Lauren’s here. She wants to build up a relationship with her just as much as she wants to see Ally and Dinah and her parents and Sofi again. But Miami and LA are on opposite sides of the country, and she’s well aware of that fact.

“That’s great, I’m excited to see you guys,” she manages to get out, but it doesn’t sound as cheerful as it’s supposed to.

And Ally, because she’s Ally, catches on immediately. “Mila… Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says unconvincingly. But then, even though she hadn’t really planned on telling anyone, “I’m in love with Lauren.”

There’s a pause, and Camila buries her face in her free hand.

“Oh honey,” Ally says, her voice full of sympathy. “That’s—”

“It’s pretty great, actually,” Camila interrupts, at the same time she starts crying. For a few moments she can’t get anything out except quiet sobbing, but after taking a deep breath she clears her throat. “We kissed, twice. She said she’s into me, and then she kissed me. And, Ally, she’s such a great kisser. Super sweet and soft and she _asked_ if she could kiss me before she did. I really like kissing her, but—”

“But you’re going home tomorrow,” Ally realizes out loud, not even commenting on the part where Lauren’s into girls. “But you can keep in touch, right? Text, and call, and Skype, and stuff.”

Camila wipes her cheeks, hoping she hasn’t smudged her makeup too much. “I don’t think that’ll be enough, though. How can you build up a relationship if you can’t even see each other?”

“Try thinking of it like all your internet friendships. You meet people online and talk to them, too, right? It’ll be like that, except you’re in love with this person and you’re probably trying to get this person to fall in love with you, too.”

“But we’re used to being around each other 24/7 now, and I’ve never met those internet people before. We don’t know any different. Lauren and I do.” Camila knows she’s just throwing up walls now, but she needs Ally to break them down for her, otherwise she’ll always find excuses to keep running.

Fortunately, Ally seems to know what she’s doing. “It’ll take some getting used to, but if you try hard enough you’ll eventually get there. It’s not healthy to be around someone for that many hours a day anyway.” And then, after a pause, “You’ll be fine, Mila. Even if it doesn’t work out, which it will, you’ll be fine.”

Camila didn’t want anything more than melt into Ally’s embrace in that moment, and she nearly started crying again. “You’re right. I’m totally overreacting.”

“Ally Brooke Hernandez, here for all your troubles,” Ally says, a smile in her voice. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I think so. Thanks, A.” Camila walks to the mirror and starts fixing her makeup the best she can. “Can you not tell Dinah yet, by the way? I don’t want her calling me to freak out on my last full day with Lauren. Especially not at the thing we have tonight.”

“Of course,” Ally agrees. “What thing?”

“Some red carpet event. I think it’s an album release party for one of the artists at Lauren’s label. All I know is it’s gonna be fancy and there’s gonna be an after party.”

“Sure, you’re just casually going to an event with a red carpet with Lauren Jauregui. Totally the luckiest girl in the world.”

Camila smiles, feeling lighter after talking to Ally. It’s one of the reasons she loves her so much—she’s one of the few people who can cheer her up like that. “I know. Thanks, for being such a great person.”

“Of course,” Ally says. “Now go spend time with Lauren. Do nice things. Write a song, kiss her some more. I’ll be there tomorrow when you land.”

“I really am excited to see you guys,” Camila says. “See you tomorrow.”

When Ally hangs up, the air is filled with a static silence that makes Camila’s skin crawl. Being in the same house as Lauren and not being next to her is literally one of the worst things in the world.

So Camila quickly fixes her makeup and darts out of her room. She’s halfway across the hallway when piano music reaches her ears, making her stop in her tracks.

Lauren’s definitely not upstairs anymore.

As quietly as she can, Camila walks down the stairs. Lauren’s behind the grand piano in the party room, playing something so beautiful it’s hard to believe she’s using just ten fingers to press the keys.

Usually Camila isn’t that into music without lyrics, or this type of music in general, but the way Lauren’s playing it sends shivers down her spine. When the song gets more intense, so do the goosebumps on Camila’s skin.

She tiptoes past her to the black sofa and plops down. From where she’s sitting now, she’s staring at Lauren’s back and her elbows as she continues playing like Camila didn’t just walk in.

The song goes on and on, and the only reason Camila knows it’s the same one is because she recognizes certain elements that keep coming back. Even though there’s sheet music in front of her, Lauren never turns the page—she’s playing it by heart.

When the song is over, Camila gives her a standing ovation. “I didn’t know you could play like that.”

Lauren grins at her sheepishly. “I’ve been playing for a long time. This is one of my favorites. There’s just something about the structure, and how the entire song is building up to this one moment… It’s like a really good book.”

“Color me impressed.” Camila leans her chin on the back of the sofa, her eyes locked with Lauren’s. It’s a special moment, she realizes, Lauren sharing this side of her. It shows that she trusts her with this information, and it means more to Camila than she could ever put into words.

Eventually Lauren looks away. “Camz?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really gonna miss you.”

Camila blinks. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

A hint of a smile touches Lauren’s lips. “I wish I hadn’t spent so much time trying to hate you. If I could do this all over again, that’s the one thing I would definitely change. I wasted so much time being mad about the contest that I didn’t realize you could actually turn out to be someone worth knowing.”

“Lo…” Camila whispers, reaching out her hand. They’re not close enough for Lauren to be able to grab it, so she gets up and laces their fingers together in a way that makes Camila feel lightheaded.

Lauren walks around the couch to sit next to her. “I’m really sorry about the way I acted. I should’ve been more considerate. It’s not your fault Briana is an asshole who has more control over my life than I do.”

Camila stares at their conjoint hands, trying to memorize the way it looks for when she’s gone. “Can’t you just fire her?”

“No, because she’s also my agent. I’m bound to her by a contract, like she’s bound to me. Until the contract expires, we’re stuck with each other, and that’s not for another year and a half.”

“Shit,” Camila says. “Have you tried talking to her about how to do things differently if she’s gonna be a pain in the ass for another billion months?”

Lauren actually smiles this time, and it’s the most relaxed Camila has seen her be talking about this topic. “Back when we first started out together, things were fine. I think if I stop resisting her so much it’ll get better. But she’s so fucking annoying. Have you seen the way she holds her phone like the President is gonna call her?”

“Oh my god,” Camila says, recalling images of Briana doing exactly as Lauren just described. “You’re so right.”

“I guess I’ll just have to wait it out. My new single is dropping next week, and there’s gonna be lots of promo for that. And then I have to go into the studio a lot to record a new album. Maybe if I behave they’ll let me put _my_ music on it this time.” Lauren rolls her eyes. “More complicated songs won’t scare off the fans, like they think. It’ll probably draw more in, as people will see that I’m capable of more than shitty pop songs.”

Camila cracks a soft smile. “Your current music isn’t shitty. But the stuff you played in the studio the other day—that’s Grammy worthy.”

“If only my producer and Briana could see that,” Lauren sighs. And then, almost shyly, “You really think it’s that good?”

“I do,” Camila nods. “I promise.”

Lauren looks at her, moving closer. Her eyes flicker down to Camila’s mouth. There’s half a second of tension, but then she presses her lips against Camila’s.

Even though she expected it, Camila still gasps before kissing back. Lauren tastes a little bit like smoke and a lot like toothpaste, which, oddly enough, is not the worst combination in the world. Though perhaps she’s biased, because she’s kissing Lauren Jauregui.

Lauren places her hand on the base of Camila’s neck and pulls her closer, deepening the kiss. Her tongue slips in Camila’s mouth, and it feels like fireworks all over again.

When they separate, they’re slightly out of breath, and Camila’s bottom lip is sore from where Lauren sank her teeth into it. Lauren’s cheeks are flushed, and she runs her hand through her hair multiple times—a sign that she’s nervous.

Camila stills her hand mid-air, pressing a soft kiss against the palm. Lauren relaxes.

And Camila’s so happy she almost forgets she’s going home tomorrow.

 

Walking a red carpet is a lot harder than it looks.

Camila’s already tripped twice, looked the wrong way seven times, and almost hit Lauren in the face by the time they’re halfway.

“Camz, this way,” Lauren says under her breath, subtly snaking her arm around Camila’s waist to pull her in the right direction. “If you go there you’ll end up backstage.”

Camila’s cheeks flush a bright red under her makeup. “Oh.”

Lauren smiles, and Camila’s cheeks burn up even more. “Just stay close to me, okay? It’s easy to get lost around here.”

Camila opens her mouth to reply, but she’s interrupted by a loud voice saying, “Lauren Jauregui!”

Lauren’s head snaps up and her smile turns into a grin when she sees a blonde woman walking towards them. Her arm slips away from Camila’s waist as she hugs her, and Camila tries not to let it bother her too much.

“Camz, this is Chelsea. She’s the host of HollywireTV on YouTube. Chelsea, this is Camila.” Lauren’s hand lingers on Camila’s back again, and it’s easier to breathe.

Camila shakes Chelsea’s hand, even though she already knows who she is. Through the years, Chelsea interviewed Lauren a bunch of times, but Camila never knew they were friendly outside of work, too.

“You’re the girl that won the contest, right?” Chelsea asks, handing Lauren a microphone. “Is Lauren treating you well?”

Camila blinks. She thinks about Lauren’s lips on hers, her hand tangled in her hair. “Y-yeah, definitely.”

Chelsea doesn’t seem to realize what she just said, giving her a smile and positioning them for the camera. She and Lauren make small talk while they’re setting up for an interview, and Camila is too aware of Lauren’s hand still on her back.

It’s hard to focus on anything, knowing Lauren’s comfortable enough to show any sign of affection in public. So when the interview starts and Chelsea introduces everyone to the cameras, Camila’s gaze may linger on Lauren’s lips a little too long.

“—And this is Camila, whom you probably all know by now. She’s spending the week with me in LA after winning the radio contest held in my hometown. Miami, what’s up?” Lauren finishes, throwing a peace sign at the camera.

For a moment, Chelsea looks at Camila like she’s going to ask her a question, but then she turns to Lauren instead. “Since we’re all religiously following the video diaries from this week, we freaked out when you revealed the title and release date of your next single, Come Away. What made you decide to use the video diaries for that?”

“It wasn’t so much a conscious decision as something that just happened. As you’ve seen, we explain what we’re going to do every day, and since we were going to have the press listen to it for the first time, it made sense to tell everyone the exciting news,” Lauren explains. “By the way. Come Away. On iTunes next Friday.”

Camila grins at Lauren’s lack of subtlety. “It’s really good. And I know what I’m talking about, because I’m a fan, too.”

Lauren gives her a nod and a smile, setting Camila’s insides on fire. Because they’re past that. Camila doesn’t know exactly what she is to Lauren, but it’s more than just a fan.

Chelsea turns to the camera. “Well, that just made me even more excited for new music. Any ideas about the album?”

Camila looks at Lauren, and for a moment her eyes harden the same way they did in the studio when the producers told her the song wasn’t good enough to be put on the album. But Lauren blinks and, with a certain air of newfound confidence, shakes her head.

“It’s all top secret. All I can say is that I am working on it, and hopefully there’ll be more new music soon.”

Chelsea makes a disappointed sound, and then continues to ask more questions. She asks about the single, about feminism, and, eventually, the contest.

“What’s it like, having a stranger live in your house for seven days?”

“I don’t think of any of my fans as strangers,” Lauren says. “But it did take some getting used to. Luckily Camila’s amazing, we’ve become great friends.”

Camila bites her lip, trying very hard not to think about how Lauren did the same just a few hours ago. Of course now that she thought about it she can’t stop. And Lauren’s smirk doesn’t really help, either.

“Really? That’s amazing,” Chelsea says too enthusiastically. She turns to Camila. “What’s it been like for you? Getting to know Lauren as a person rather than as an artist—as your idol?”

“Uh—it’s great? I mean. Lauren’s a great person. She didn’t have to let me in her house, but she did.” Camila takes a deep breath, and, as her eyes lock with Lauren’s, makes a quick decision. “I think a lot of people underestimate how tough this business is—I sure did. Before I came here, I thought it was just glitter and glamour. Spend some time in the studio, put out an album, and walk red carpets. But behind every song you hear are many hours of hard work. An album is like a sneak peek into an artist’s soul. The music they put out is supposed to be representative of who they are as a person. And _that’s_ what people often forget. No album is ‘just an album’ or something that’ll earn you money until the next big thing pops up, and no album should be treated as such.”

When Camila finishes speaking, everyone is quiet. It feels like the world stopped spinning for a moment, and now it’s starting again with a jolt. Anxious spiders crawl their down Camila’s spine, make her knees feel weak. Because she possibly just ruined Lauren’s entire career with that speech. Because even though everyone else may think she’s just trying to draw sympathy for starving artists, Lauren’s team will know she’s talking to them. Because everyone is looking at her like she just killed a man.

And Lauren—Lauren looks like she’s about to cry.

Camila starts to apologize, but before she can get the first words out, Lauren pulls her into a hug and whispers, “Thank you.”

And maybe, just maybe, she did the right thing.

Camila’s eyes flutter closed as she wraps her arms around Lauren’s waist, breathing in her perfume. It fits perfectly, like they were made for each other.

“Always,” Camila whispers back.

 

They run into Zayn and Normani at the after party. Camila had seen Zayn before on the red carpet, from a few feet away, but she didn’t know Normani would be there too—she isn’t signed with the label, after all.

When she asks about it over loud music, Normani explains, “Zayn got me in. Usually Lauren sneaks me in, but she already has a plus one.”

They both look up to where Lauren and Zayn are talking at the bar while waiting for their drinks, and Camila feels her cheeks flush.

Normani must’ve noticed, because her eyes flicker back and forth between Lauren and Camila, and her lips form a perfect O. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Camila doesn’t know whether to shrug or cry, but before she gets a chance to do either, Lauren’s back. She hands Camila a glass and smiles so brightly Camila feels like she just jumped off the Empire State building.

“It’s a mojito,” Lauren says in an accent so heavy it almost flips Camila’s Spanish switch.

She takes a sip instead. It tastes like mint and lemon and alcohol, and it’s actually really good.

“Are we supposed to drink?” she asks, taking a second sip.

Lauren shrugs. “As long as we don’t get wasted I don’t think anyone cares. Otherwise all these drinks are suddenly Zayn’s.”

Camila looks around—nearly everyone’s holding a drink, and half those people isn’t over twenty-one yet. She figures Lauren knows a lot more about things like this, and she doesn’t mind sipping a mojito for the rest of the night.

It still hasn’t really dawned on her that tonight is her last night in LA. This time tomorrow she will be back in Miami, back to the normality of her own life. Without cameramen and managers. Without famous friends and parties where underage drinking is allowed. Without Lauren.

“Dance with me,” Lauren says, slipping her hand into Camila’s.

Camila lets herself be pulled towards the dance floor, careful not to spill her drink. They find a spot near the edge, and Camila attempts to move her body to the beat of the song to match Lauren’s movements. But Lauren’s way, way better at this.

It’s awkward and uneasy, mostly because Camila isn’t drunk enough to dance like they’re the only ones in the room, partly because she’s really going to miss Lauren and the realization is already breaking her heart a little.

Lauren doesn’t notice. She dances around Camila and grabs her arms a few times to lift them above their heads. Sometimes she’s so close Camila thinks she’s going to kiss her.

And—Lauren looks happy. She looks like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders, her smile bright and genuine. Her eyes are smiling, too.

“I’m gonna go over there,” Camila says, not wanting to ruin Lauren’s fun, but also not wanting to stay on the dance floor. She’s already tripped over her own feet three times in two songs.

Lauren frowns. “Oh.” A pause. Then, “Are you okay?”

“I just don’t like dancing in public,” Camila says. “Sorry.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. It’s okay, Camz,” Lauren promises with a smile. She brushes a hair out of Camila’s face, the ghost of her fingertips sending shivers down Camila’s spine.

They walk back to where Normani and Zayn are sitting on some bar stools, and Camila climbs on the one next to Normani.

“Done already?” Normani asks, looking at Lauren like she’s trying to convey some kind of message.

“Camz didn’t feel like dancing anymore,” Lauren says casually, seemingly ignoring Normani’s look. “What are we talking about?”

Zayn tilts his head slightly. “I’ll dance with you.”

“Oh—uh.” Lauren looks at Camila. “Is that okay with you?”

And Camila can’t help the smile that spreads across her face, because Lauren wouldn’t be asking that if she didn’t think they were sort of exclusive.

She nods, mostly because Lauren still looks like she really wants to dance, and also a little because she’s certain Zayn won’t try to make any serious moves on her so there’s really no reason for jealousy. And, also, they’re not really exclusive—not like that. She can hardly claim Lauren as hers if she’s also leaving her tomorrow.

She watches as Lauren leaves for the dance floor once again, laughing at something Zayn said. She watches as Lauren and Zayn perform some kind of strange, synced up dance routine that looks like a toddler made it up.

Then Normani clears her throat. “What’s going on with you and Lauren?”

Camila’s head snaps up. “Uh. What do you mean?”

“I mean, she suddenly looks at you like you’re the sun and she’s just been cured from blindness. I knew you liked her, I just didn’t know the feeling was mutual.”

“We’re friends,” Camila says, almost automatically. But then she adds, “Sometimes we also make out.”

 Normani glances at Lauren, who catches her eye and waves at them from the dance floor. “She really likes you.”

Camila’s heart skips a beat. “How do you know that?”

“She’s never been this open about it before. Usually when she likes someone she hides it from everyone, including that person. She never holds anyone’s hand like she held yours a couple minutes ago.” Normani looks at Camila. “She looks happier.”

Camila’s eyes shift back to Lauren, who’s laughing at something Zayn said. She takes a large sip of her drink, the alcohol burning in her throat. It’s the same feeling she gets when she thinks about leaving tomorrow. “Maybe she just needed a fresh face to tell her she’s worth it.”

“Maybe.” Normani gives a soft smile. “Or maybe she just really likes you.”

It stings. Not the fact that Lauren likes her—she couldn’t be happier about that. But even after Ally’s speech, Camila still isn’t sure how any of this is supposed to work out. As much as she wants it to, she just doesn’t see how they can build a healthy relationship through phones and computers.

“Maybe,” she says, but it comes out like a sigh.

Across the room, Lauren says something to Zayn, and he looks at Camila. Sympathy is written all over his face, and for a moment, Camila wishes he could be what Lauren needs. But then Lauren laughs again, and Camila allows herself to be selfish; to want Lauren to never fall for someone that isn’t her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the kudos and comments, every single one makes me smile. i hope you have a great day and don't forget to take care of yourself.


	7. day 7

The digits on Camila’s phone tell her it’s nearly 2 AM, but she’s not tired at all. Her head is still buzzing from the party, even though it’s quiet in the car. On her left, Lauren is staring out the window, absentmindedly tracing patterns on Camila’s palm. The feeling sends electric shivers down her spine, and there’s something about the gesture that makes her heart swell.

“Where are we going?” Camila asks, breaking the silence.

Lauren slowly turns her head, staring at Camila for a moment before answering, “The beach.”

“Oh,” because _wow_ , that’s _romantic_. Camila wonders if Lauren knows just how much she’s falling in love with her right now, just for saying those two words.

“Is that okay with you?” Lauren asks, screwing up her face in concern.

“Absolutely.”

“Okay.” Lauren smiles. She glances out the window again, and Camila realizes they’ve been driving along the ocean the entire time. She was just too busy staring at Lauren to notice.

They drive for a few more minutes arriving wherever Lauren told their driver to go, and Camila breathes in the fresh ocean air. She’s not sure why, but it smells differently from the beach in Florida. It smells differently from the last time she was at the beach, too.

Spinning around, her eyes lock with Lauren’s, who’s just wrapping up paying for their ride. It’s insane how much has changed in one week. Just four days ago, Lauren hated her. Now she’s slowly walking towards her with that adorable smile on her face.

The only thing that hasn’t changed is the way Camila falls in love with her every second of the day.

“I just wanted you to have one good experience on the beach, since that’s sort of what California is known for,” Lauren says as she reaches Camila, her voice soft and raspy. She still feels bad about the photoshoot, Camila realizes.

She reaches out for Lauren’s hand, lacing their fingers together with a certain air of confidence. It feels natural, holding Lauren’s hand. She almost doesn’t remember _not_ holding it.

“Lead the way,” she smiles.

They slip off their shoes, digging their feet into the cool sand as they start walking. It’s quiet, save for the sound of ocean waves, and in the far distance the engines of cars. Even at 2 AM, Los Angeles is still wide awake.

Even though she normally hates silence, Camila doesn’t feel the need to say anything. She’s comfortable enough around Lauren to not feel awkward when they’re not having a conversation. Of course, she loves talking to her, but it’s okay if they’re not. It’s a feeling she could get used to.

Eventually, after they walked quietly for some time, Lauren clears her throat. “I wanted to say thank you, for giving me a second chance, even if I didn’t deserve one.”

Camila stops walking. Her coordination has never been the greatest, and meaningful conversations are best when they’re not messed up by accidental tripping over air. “Of course. You don’t have to thank me.”

“I want to, though. I’ve been a really bad host, and an even worse person to you. I’m supposed to be your idol, but instead I acted like an asshole.”

“You’re not my idol anymore,” Camila says. “You’re something else. I read a quote once, about how there are two ways to dehumanize someone. One is by dismissing them, the other by idolizing them. If there’s one thing I learned this past week, it’s that you’re human. There is more to you than what you show the world, and I’m still getting to know that person. You’re my friend, more than you are my idol, now.”

Lauren doesn’t reply immediately. Her hands have gone a little sweaty, but it’s too dark to see her face. Camila starts to get worried she said something wrong, but then Lauren moves and suddenly her face is so close Camila can feel her breath.

“You have no idea what that means to me,” Lauren says, barely above a whisper. Their foreheads press together, and then their lips.

Camila’s eyes flutter closed and she reaches up to tangle her free hand with Lauren’s hair.

It’s softer than their previous kisses, more emotional. It’s like someone opened a portal underneath Camila’s feet, and now she’s floating between dimensions, and kissing Lauren is her lifeline. Which is actually kind of funny, because Lauren is making her feel everything, but Lauren is also holding her together.

“I really like you,” Camila whispers against Lauren’s lips, catching her breath. She wants to tell Lauren just how much she’s fallen in love with her, just how much she needs this week to never end, but part of her knows it’s too fast—that Lauren could never love her back. So she settles for something that won’t make Lauren run.

“I really like you, too,” Lauren whispers back, kissing her one more time.

And Camila closes her eyes and tries to memorize how Lauren’s lips taste like falling in love.

 

A few hours later, Camila jolts awake when something cold touches her legs. She opens her eyes, and even though it’s too dark to really see anything, a Lauren-shaped form is definitely climbing into her bed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Lauren whispers. “Is it okay if I sleep here tonight?”

Still half asleep, Camila wraps her arm around Lauren’s waist and pulls her closer. Her fingertips graze the skin on Lauren’s stomach, and she feels her heart skip a beat. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m gonna miss you, that’s all. I don’t want to spend our last night together in separate beds, if that makes any sense to you.”

“It does,” Camila sighs into Lauren’s hair. She feels Lauren’s warm breath in her neck; it’s a feeling she wants to bottle and bring home with her. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

Lauren doesn’t reply for a while, and Camila thinks she’s fallen asleep. She closes her eyes, relaxing her muscles, and lets herself melt into something that fits Lauren’s body shape. She’s almost asleep when Lauren speaks again.

“I wish we’d met in Miami, before everything got out of hand. We would’ve been great friends.”

Camila thinks about her high school, and how people think she’s weird for having such an odd sense of humor, and being a little too obsessed with celebrities. She thinks about Lauren, and how cool she is. She knows where Lauren went to high school—she asked around until someone knew one of Lauren’s old friends who told her the name of a prestigious private school. It isn’t even that far from her own public school, and she even knows some of the people that go there. They could’ve been friends, if Lauren was less cool and Camila was less awkward.

But, “I wish we’d met earlier, too. I always wished I went to the same high school as you, because I’d just be one grade lower than you, and we could’ve known each other through clubs or something.”

Lauren hums and smiles against her neck. “And after I’d graduated, you could’ve come to visit me in my college dorm room, and we would’ve drank cheap wine and watched lame movies on my tiny single bed.”

Camila’s heart swells, and it’s funny, because not too long ago she was the one making up scenarios of possible alternative lives she could lead with Lauren, and now Lauren was talking to her about exactly that.

“We can still do that. I applied to college, and if I get in I’m supposed to live in dorms. You can come by my room and we can do all the things you just said.”

“I wish,” Lauren sighs. And Camila knows it’s impossible, but they can still pretend. A few weeks ago, she would’ve never imagined any of this would happen either, yet here they are.

A silence falls over the room as Lauren relaxes in her arms and her breathing evens, and Camila presses her lips against Lauren’s forehead. A certain tightness has taken over her nervous system, and she’s pretty sure that this is what heartache feels like.

 

They wake up tangled in each other and the sheets. Lauren’s looking at her when Camila stirs awake, and her eyes are the most beautiful thing Camila has ever seen.

They make her want to stop all the clocks just so she can stare into them for the rest of her life. She has no idea how she’s going to survive not being able to look at Lauren whenever she wants to, to hug her when she’s feeling blue, or kiss her when she says something cute.

Lauren cups her cheek and smiles. It’s beautiful and a little sleepy, and the butterflies in Camila’s stomach are going crazy.

“You’re really pretty,” Lauren says. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Camila breathes. “You?”

“I always sleep well if you’re by my side.” Lauren presses a quick kiss against her lips, and then slips out of bed like she didn’t just say the most romantic thing in the world. “I’m gonna take a shower. We have a shoot for my new music video in a few hours, so today’s going to be fun and also really busy.”

She runs her hand through her hair to flip it over to her other shoulder and dashes into Camila’s bathroom. For a few moments Camila is too dazed to realize what just happened, then she jumps up and bangs on the door.

“I need to be in this bathroom, Lo. I gotta shower, too.”

“Use mine,” Lauren says back, her voice muffled through the closed door. “I’m already naked.”

Camila rolls her eyes. “My stuff is in there.”

“Wear my things. I’m turning on the shower now, so I can’t hear you anymore.”

The sound of running water fills the room immediately after Lauren finishes her sentence, and Camila stands in front of the door for a few indecisive moments. Part of her wanted to use her own shampoo, and wear her own clothes, but part of her really didn’t mind smelling like Lauren, and wearing Lauren’s clothes.

Maybe Lauren would let her keep whatever she was wearing.

Camila grabs some clean underwear and darts across the hallway, into Lauren’s bedroom. It still feels like walking from a black-and-white movie into a full color one, and she can’t imagine Lauren really feels at home in this house.

Lauren’s bathroom is a lot bigger than her own, and for a moment she’s not sure whether to take a bath or a shower. But a bath would take longer, and she doesn’t want to miss any more time with Lauren than absolutely necessary.

There will be enough of that once she leaves for Miami tonight.

She doesn’t take too long to shower. When she gets out, the mirrors are fogged up, and, in an impulse, she leans over and writes, _I miss you already. X Camz_.

When she steps back into Lauren’s room, she suddenly realizes this might be the last time she’s here. She trails her fingertips over the covers of Lauren’s bed—the one she spent more time in than her own.

She wonders if it would be possible to bottle the scent of Lauren’s pillows, for when she misses her.

She’s going to miss her.

The door opens. “Camz, are you done yet?”

Camila jumps up, suddenly all too aware of how she’s still only wearing underwear. When she looks up, her eyes catch Lauren’s.

“Uh—” she stutters. “I was just gonna get dressed. What can I wear?”

Lauren doesn’t reply for a moment, her eyes trialing down Camila’s body. It’s flattering and uncomfortable at the same time, and Camila doesn’t quite know what to think. She doesn’t even let Dinah and Ally see her in any state of undressed for a period of time longer than two seconds.

“I, uh,” Lauren says, shaking her head. She pushes farther into the room, opening some drawers. She pulls out a few items of clothing, handing them to Camila. “I think this will look good on you.”

It’s nothing too fancy, just a pair of black skinny jeans and the 1975 T-shirt Lauren wore on the first day. But still. They’re Lauren’s clothes.

Camila hides a smile as she pulls them on. They fit almost perfectly, even though Lauren’s a few inches taller and not as skinny.

“I was right, it does look good on you,” Lauren says, running her hand through her hair. Her cheeks are still a little flushed, and she doesn’t meet Camila’s eyes. She opens her mouth to say something else, but changes her mind and kisses Camila instead.

Despite still being taken aback by the fact that Lauren Jauregui likes her enough to kiss her out of the blue, Camila leans into the kiss with ease. She still hasn’t kissed enough to be an expert, but she’s starting to get used to having Lauren’s lips pressed against her own.

“Sorry,” Lauren whispers as she pulls away, her hand still lingering on Camila’s back. “I didn’t mean to attack you like that.”

“It’s okay. I attacked you first.” And when Lauren looks at her like she’s grown a second head, “The first day, remember?”

A smile spreads across Lauren’s lips, and she pushes a strand of hair out of Camila’s face. “I guess we’ve come full circle, then. You attacked me, I attacked you, and neither of us minded.”

Camila’s smirks. “I never said I didn’t mind.”

“Do you?” Lauren asks, her eyes slightly narrowed, the ghost of a smile still on her lips.

“No.” Camila leans her forehead against Lauren’s, closing her eyes. She doesn’t kiss her again—not yet.

She wants to remember this moment. Not just kissing Lauren, or the way her lips taste. She wants to remember the way Lauren makes her feel. So that, when she’s back home, or even in a year’s time and she hears Lauren’s music on the radio, she’ll still feel the butterflies in her stomach, and the shivers down her spine.

A soft hand presses against her cheek, and Lauren’s voice is barely a whisper when she says, “Don’t cry.”

Camila blinks, realizing she is, in fact, crying. Tears run down her cheeks, the lump in her throat growing quickly.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, untangling her hands from behind Lauren’s back to wipe her face. “I just realized how much I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you, too.” Lauren wraps her arms around Camila’s shoulders and pulls her into a tight hug. She lets out a shaky breath. “So much.”

 

They arrive at the movie studio thirty minutes late, and that’s after they decided to eat bananas on the road for breakfast.

Briana’s waiting for them with her arms crossed and venom in her eyes. She taps her wrist multiple times as they walk up to her, even though she’s not wearing a watch.

“Care to explain?” she says, her voice sharp and dripping with anger. “I left you three voicemails. The director is just about ready to pack up and go, and if that happens you won’t have a music video at all.”

Camila half expects Lauren’s shoulders to slump, like they would have a week ago, but instead she shrugs and stands up straight. “Even if I drop a single without a video, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. And we’re here now, aren’t we?”

Briana stares at her, wide-eyed. Before she has time to recover, Lauren pushes past her, and gestures at Camila to follow her.

“That was badass,” Camila says, catching up to Lauren. “But won’t you get in trouble?”

Lauren, already looking a lot less confident than a few moments ago, lifts her gaze to look at Camila. “Probably. But I’m done letting Briana, or anyone, dictate my life. Remember what you said at the red carpet yesterday? I’m gonna try to do that. I want my next album to be _mine_ , not what the label wants it to be. But I can’t make that happen if I don’t keep pushing, in every aspect of this career. This is my life, and even though it really sucks sometimes, I do love it. I chose this life, as much as it chose me. _I’m_ in control here, this is _my_ album. _My_ name is going to be on that album cover, and it’s my voice that’s gonna sing those songs. Like you said, an album is like a sneak peek into someone’s soul. But it’s not my soul you’re getting a sneak peek of if I can’t even stand up for what I want, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”

At some point during Lauren’s speech, Camila stops walking. She’s clumsy enough as it is, and the incredibly proud feeling in her chest is making it hard not to trip and fall while she’s standing still.

“Holy shit,” she says, when Lauren’s done. And, without a warning, she pulls Lauren into a tight hug. Pressing her lips against her ear, she whispers, “I’m so proud of you.”

She’s not sure why, but she feels that there’s a moment when Lauren wraps her arms around her back, tightening her grip. Something changed in Lauren just now, and Camila was there to see it. And of course it won’t be that easy, of course it’s an uphill battle, but at some point Lauren will be able to bring out the music she wants to, Camila’s sure of it. And she’ll be there to see it, every step of the way.

 

The concept is simple: Lauren breaks a lot of things, and the floor is scattered with ripped up Polaroid pictures. Every now and then the scene shifts to Lauren and some boy as a happy couple, before he ran away and broke her heart.

It’s nothing too complicated, nothing too fancy. Despite the song having a nice beat that will allow it to be played in clubs, there’s no dancing involved, and the only two people in the entire video are Fake Lauren and her fake boyfriend.

Real Lauren almost threw a tantrum because she wanted to include Camila in the video, but the only way of doing that was by replacing the boyfriend with a girlfriend, and neither of them was ready to come out like that.

So now Camila’s eating some of the free food on set while Lauren is breaking guitars on the other side of the room. It’s not a real guitar, Camila learned, but it still makes her heart clench every time she hears the loud bang of the guitar being thrown on the floor.

“Camila,” a voice says. “Can we ask you a few questions for the last video?”

Camila turns around to find Gregg standing there, along with one of the cameramen. She sort of wants to watch Lauren, but at the same time—this is part of the contract she signed. And she’s violated many other parts already, so this is probably not as optional as it seems.

“Sure,” she smiles. “Should we go outside or something? We probably shouldn’t disturb them.”

Gregg nods. He leads the way outside, where he positions Camila with her back to the concrete wall. “As today is the last day, can you tell the fans something about your week? Experiences, new things you learned, just anything you’d want the world to know about what it’s like to spend a week with Lauren Jauregui?”

Camila smirks and looks down, because she’s had a lot of new experiences. She learned a lot about Lauren. She learned that Lauren’s lips taste sweet when they don’t taste like smoke, and what Lauren looks like when she just woke up. But that’s private. It’s not something to tell the fans, who’ll undoubtedly overanalyze everything. If she gushes about her week, someone’s bound to figure out the truth.

So, she lies—again. “We mostly spent time doing work-related things, to be honest. Time in the recording studio, at photoshoots, and right now she’s working on her music video. Before coming here I never realized how much work a recording artist actually does. I used to think was it fun and games; writing song lyrics on napkins, fumbling around on the guitar to figure out the right chords to a melody, and then recording it in the studio. But it’s so much more than that. The amount of time Lauren puts into this—it’s not just work anymore, it’s a lifestyle. I said this in an interview before, but I’m not sure when that’ll be up, so I’m gonna say it again. An album is an insight into an artist’s life, and the fact that they’re willing to share it with us, as fans, that’s just incredible. So if I had to list the things I learned this week, it’s how you should never take your favorite artist’s work for granted. They don’t owe us anything, but they still choose to put out their most private thoughts for our entertainment.”

Coming to LA, seeing how things were done around here with her own eyes, it changed something in Camila. She never used to be this passionate about treating an artist right. Of course she wanted Lauren to be treated the best she could, but at this point she doesn’t even care about new music anymore. All she cares about is Lauren’s personal health, both physically and mentally, and if that means there won’t be new music any time soon she’s perfectly okay with that. Because, as much as it pisses her off, the industry had torn Lauren down until she was merely a puppet in the hands of her manager.

In retrospect, Camila’s surprised they kept up the façade as well as they did. She hadn’t seen any of this coming, even though she used to be one of those fans that overanalyzed every picture and every video of Lauren the moment it came out. She put her life on hold to spend hours on social media talking to other fans, sharing her opinion. But still, in all that time, she never realized things were as wrong as they were. Sure, she knew Lauren had off days sometimes, but she hadn’t known how much shit she was really going through. Which, unfortunately, meant that whatever Briana was doing—it was working. For her, anyway.

“Camila?” Gregg’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts. He looks at her expectantly, like he just asked a question.

Camila blinks. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“I asked if there’s anything else you want to share before wrapping up the video.” Gregg doesn’t sound rude or impatient, but Camila still feels bad. She can’t imagine anything of what she just said will be appreciated by Briana, and with her and Lauren running around kissing each other behind everyone’s back, she hasn’t been the best prize winner for this contest either. All she did was indirectly expose Briana and her company for how they treated Lauren, and choose Lauren’s side. Which, really, is something Briana should’ve seen coming.

“I just—” Camila clears her throat and looks directly into the camera. “I want to thank Lauren for having me. There was no reason for her to allow me to stay in her house for a week, but she did, and I’ll be forever grateful for this opportunity. I never expected any of this to happen, and I’ll never forget all the things I’ve learned this week. So, Lauren, if you’re watching this—thank you, for everything. You taught me so much, I’ll never forget the time we spent together.”

As she finishes speaking, she lets out a shaky breath. Somehow talking to a camera makes her realize that it’s really almost over. Their time together is a race against a clock that’s going way too fast for all the things she still wants to do together.

Without a warning, she feels a few tears spill down her cheeks. Wiping them away furiously, she mumbles a quick apology before dashing off. Someone else will have to do the signing off for today’s video—she’s too busy trying to keep herself together over the impending heartbreak.

She doesn’t really know where she’s going; as long as it’s away from the cameras she doesn’t care.

She keeps running until she’s certain the cameras aren’t following her. With her back against the wall, she slides down to the ground and buries her face in her hands. Today isn’t going according to plan at all. She’d promised herself not to cry before she was back home in her own bed, or at least until she boarded the plane, but the anticipation of leaving Lauren behind makes her break her promise.

Because tomorrow she will be waking up in Miami, without Lauren. There will be no making pancakes together, or lazy morning kisses, or cuddling on the couch. No soft hands holding her own, no raspy voice calling her Camz, no smile so bright it can light up the room.

Just nothing.

Minutes pass before she’s able to get a grip on herself. A few people walk by and shoot her strange looks, but fortunately no one seems to care enough to ask what’s wrong. What would she have to say? “I’m crying because the girl who used to be my idol is now the girl I’m hopelessly in love with, but I’m flying to Miami tonight, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again,” won’t make her sound like she’s got her shit together.

Her phone buzzes. Then, a few minutes later, it buzzes again. And again. And again.

And then, “Camila! Where the fuck are you? Camz?”

Camila forces herself to breathe normally, knowing it won’t be much of a help. Her face is red and swollen, and she’s pretty sure even the sight of Lauren will make her burst into tears again.

It doesn’t.

Lauren rounds the corner of the building quickly, like she’s been running. She still has all her makeup on from the video shoot, and she hasn’t changed into her own clothes yet either.

Camila tries to make herself disappear into the wall behind her, but it’s too late—Lauren’s spotted her.

“I left you, like, ten messages,” she says, her voice tense with anxiety. She sits down next to Camila, studying her face. “Gregg told me you ran off and he thought you were crying. Are you crying?”

Camila tries to shake her head convincingly, but Lauren’s eyes are so genuine and full of worry she bites her lip and starts crying again.

Lauren doesn’t say anything. Instead she moves closer to Camila and wraps her arms around her, pulling her into a hug. Her hand strokes up and down Camila’s back, which she normally hates but is almost comforting when Lauren does it, and Camila just—loses it.

Everything comes pouring out at once; her fear of being just another warm body to Lauren, of forgetting little things like the way Lauren’s lips curl up into a smile every time she tells a really bad joke, of falling out of love; of this all being just a dream.

She’s crying so much her tongue is paralyzed, but Lauren seems to understand.

“I’ll miss you, too,” she whispers. “But we’ll keep in touch. I’ll text you every morning when I wake up, and I’ll text you ever night when I go to sleep. We’ll have lots of phone calls, and we can see each other on Skype. It won’t be the same, I know that, but at least it’s something. You’re important to me, Camila. I promise I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep trying until you’re sick of me, until you can’t stand the sound of my voice anymore. Until you tear down your posters and delete my number. I’ll keep trying.”

And Lauren’s words make Camila wonder that, maybe, she isn’t in this on her own. That maybe Lauren has started falling for her, too. It’s a truth she chooses to believe, because the alternative would break her heart even more than leaving Lauren behind.

But she’s still at a loss of words, there’s still tears streaming down her face, her hands are still shaking; she kisses Lauren simply because there is no other way of expressing her feelings anymore.

Lauren gasps into her mouth, her hands trailing down Camila’s spine out of habit. There’s nothing pretty about this kiss. Camila never really stops crying, and Lauren is positioned uncomfortably with her knees digging into Camila’s thighs, but it’s real.

Even if all of Lauren’s promises go out the door the second Camila sets foot on that plane, this is real. Even if they never speak again, at least they’ll always have this kiss.

And Camila’s not sure what she did to deserve someone like Lauren, because she just lets it happen. It’s like she understands that what Camila needs, more than anything, is reassurance, and the best way to give it to her is by letting her kiss her. She doesn’t pull away and doesn’t shift into a more comfortable position—she lets Camila take total control. She lets herself be kissed for as long as Camila needs to kiss her.

Somewhere during that kiss, Camila stops crying. Her hands stop shaking. She finds her voice.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers against Lauren’s lips. “I don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Lauren interrupts. Her hand is on Camila’s cheek now, wiping away the remains of her tears. Her other hand is pushing Camila’s hair out of her face. “I’m still here. I promise.”

 

A guitar is propped up in front of Camila, her fingers delicately plucking the strings. She only knows a handful of songs, most of which are Lauren’s, so she’s been playing the same five songs for the past hour and a half.

Lauren gave her the chords to Come Away, but she doesn’t want to fumble around with learning them—she wants to impress Lauren with her non-existing guitar skills.

She’s not sure Lauren is listening, though. The other girl has been staring at her laptop for at least thirty minutes now, and every time Camila comes near to see what she’s doing, she closes the lid.

“It’s a secret,” she explained the first time, upon seeing disappointment flash in Camila’s eyes. “I’ll show you before you have to leave.”

But 8 PM is nearing quickly now, and Camila still has no idea what Lauren’s been doing.

Just when she’s about to put down the guitar and demand answers to satisfy her curiosity, Lauren unplugs the iPod she’s undoubtedly been putting music on, and closes her laptop.

“Play me something,” she says, leaving the couch behind to sit on the floor, facing Camila.

“What do you want to hear?”

Lauren smiles, soft and caring. “Anything.”

Camila runs her fingers over the strings as she tries to decide the level of awkwardness if she played one of Lauren’s songs right now, but it’s the ones she knows best. So she bites her lip and plays the first chords of Lauren’s last single before Come Away.

Lauren laughs softly, and for a moment, Camila stops playing.

“Keep going,” Lauren says. “Can you sing?”

Camila shakes her head. “I never sang for anyone—just in my bedroom.”

“I won’t judge.”

“You will if it’s bad.”

Lauren reaches over to put her hand over Camila’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to sing if you don’t want to.”

But Camila knows that if there’s one person she would sing for, it’d be Lauren. When they’re sitting together like this, it’s easy to forget the venues filled with screaming fans, the completely discography with Lauren’s name on it. When Lauren’s looking at her like this—like she’s the only girl in the world—she dares to sing.

A moment of silence passes, before she plucks the strings again. She plays the intro, twice to gain control over her nerves, and takes a deep breath.

Her voice is shaky at first as she tries to shake off the idea that Lauren Jauregui is listening. But it’s her favorite song off of Lauren’s album, and she has no trouble finding the melody. She’s done this before, millions of times, in her bedroom. It gets easier once she closes her eyes, when she can no longer see Lauren grinning at her.

And then, when she reaches the first chorus, Lauren joins in to sing the counterpart.

Camila looks up to find Lauren staring at her with a sparkle in her eyes, harmonizing with her like it’s no big deal. It actually sounds pretty good.

They almost make it through the entire song without breaking eye-contact or bursting into laughter, but near the end Lauren leans forward and catches Camila’s lips between her own.

Camila, unable to keep playing, forgets all about the guitar and reaches up to cup Lauren’s face with the palms of her hands.

“Sorry,” Lauren giggles. “I didn’t mean to interrupt but—your voice is really good. And I’m not just saying this to make you smile, I’m serious. You’re a good singer, Camz.”

Camila feels her heartrate speed up as she stares into Lauren’s eyes, trying to find even the slightest sign of a lie. But there’s nothing. Just green and honesty and something that looks a lot like falling in love.

“Thank you,” she breathes, and she doesn’t need words to explain to Lauren that it’s for more than just the compliment.

Lauren kisses her again, and this time there’s nothing gentle about it. She pulls the guitar from between them, slips her tongue into Camila’s mouth without a warning, and it’s not until Camila’s back hits the floor that she realizes Lauren’s on top of her.

In a weak moment she tugs at Lauren’s top, pushing it up just enough to expose an inch or two of skin. Her fingertips trail Lauren’s stomach, and somewhere in the back of her mind she registers that holy shit she’s making out with Lauren Jauregui, and it’s just about the softest thing she’s ever felt.

“Wow, you’re soft,” she says, and Lauren laughs and rolls off Camila. But Camila isn’t done yet. Not when these are their last couple of minutes together, not when Lauren just kissed her like that.

“Kiss me,” she breathes, rolling over until she bumps into Lauren. Without a second thought, she climbs on top of her, pressing her lips down on Lauren’s again.

“Camz,” Lauren mumbles, but she doesn’t say anything else, and for once Camila isn’t curious. She kisses Lauren again and again, until her lips are bruised and her heart is beating against her chest.

She kisses Lauren until the doorbell rings. She kisses Lauren until she’s pulled back into reality.

They’re both panting as Camila sits up, running her hands through her hair to make it look presentable, like they weren’t just making out on the floor of Lauren’s living room.

Lauren reaches up to help her, but ends up caressing her cheek instead. Her eyes lock with Camila’s, and for the first time they’re filled with tears.

“I’m really gonna miss you,” she says, her voice hoarse. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop—”

The doorbell rings again.

Both girls sit up, and straighten their shirts. Camila’s still wearing Lauren’s clothes, and with all the cozying up they’ve done they still smell like her, too.

Lauren reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind Camila’s ear, her hand trailing down to the shirt. Without a word, she touches the white numbers, and when she looks up there’s a sad smile on her lips. “You can keep the clothes, if you want.”

Camila blinks. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Lauren tugs at the hem of the shirt. “I wore this when I first met you, and you’re wearing it when we first say goodbye. You can give it back to me when we see each other again.”

Camila opens her mouth to reply, but then there’s knocking on the door and repeated ringing of the doorbell, and Lauren gives her a soft peck on her cheek before darting to the front door.

As soon as it opens, a line of people marches inside. Briana’s up front, followed by Gregg and his cameraman, and Lauren’s bodyguard is last.

“Camila!” Briana says, completely ignoring Lauren. “Are you ready or do you need some more time to pack your bags? We have to be at the airport in about an hour, so there’s still a little time.”

Camila shoots Lauren a glance. “I still need some time. Lo, can you help?”

Lauren gives her a quick nod, letting her go first. When Camila’s halfway the stairs, she turns around and waits for Lauren to catch up. It’s not hard to notice the way Lauren’s shoulders tensed up the minute Briana walked into the house.

“Are you okay?” she mutters under her breath.

Lauren nods, her voice short and clipped. “I’m fine.”

Camila takes a deep breath as she watches Lauren dash into the guest room. If there’s anything she learned this week it’s that fine never means okay when it comes to Lauren.

When she enters the room, Lauren is sitting on the bed next to Camila’s packed suitcase, her fingers twitching nervously.

“Lo,” Camila says, sitting down on Lauren’s other side. “Are you okay?”

Lauren looks up. Her eyes are dark and not sparkling like a few minutes ago at all. “It’s just—this is gonna sound really stupid—it feels like Briana is taking away everything I care about. First my music, then my privacy, and now you.”

Camila’s first reaction is to kiss Lauren, because _holy shit_ that’s cute. But, “It won’t be forever. Like you said, we’ll see each other again.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.” Lauren reaches over to grab Camila’s hand. “I’m really glad I had the chance to meet you. I know we’ve only known each other for a week, but you helped me a lot. Without you, I probably wouldn’t have realized I’m in control of my own life—at least not like this. So really, it should be me thanking you, not the other way around.”

And there’s just something about it that makes Camila wrap her arms around Lauren’s shoulders and pull her into a hug. Because Lauren was there for here when she needed it; when people at school were being rude, or when she had her heart broken by a boy she thought liked her back. And now she’d been there for Lauren. So, maybe, there is something like fate after all. Maybe they were destined to know get to know each other the way they did. Or maybe it was just serendipity.

So she doesn’t shrug it off. She just holds Lauren for a while, and whispers, “Always.”

“Oh,” Lauren says, as they’re pulling back. “I have something for you.” She digs into her pocket and takes out something small. “I would’ve made you a mixed tape, but I wasn’t sure if you had anything to play it with, so I decided to take a safer route. Don’t listen to it until you’re on the plane, okay?”

Camila’s eyes widen as she takes the iPod from Lauren’s hand. She’s tempted to unlock it and look through the songs that Lauren put on it, but if there’s one promise she wants to keep, it’s this one. So she nods and wraps her hand around it. “I’ll listen to it as soon as we’re in the air.”

Lauren brushes her cheekbone with her thumb and presses a soft kiss against her lips. It lasts only a moment, but in that moment time stands still and it’s just the two of them. There’s no planes to catch, no distance to put between them. No tears, no goodbyes. Just Lauren and Camila, frozen in time.

It’s over too soon.

“We should probably go downstairs. I don’t want to be the reason you miss your flight,” Lauren whispers against Camila’s lips.

“I do want you to be the reason I miss my flight,” Camila tries, but Lauren shakes her head and pushes her off the bed with a sad smile.

“Briana would kill us both if that happens. None of this worked out the way she wanted it to, anyway. I can’t imagine she’s sad to see you go.”

“She should’ve expected this was exactly how it was gonna go. Your fans want you to be happy, and if it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been someone else standing up for you once they realized how they treat you.”

Lauren lifts the suitcase off the bed, shooting Camila a long glance. “Perhaps. But I’m glad it was you.”

“Yeah,” Camila breathes. “Me too.”

She gives the guest room one last glance, just to make sure she hasn’t forgotten anything. Though, if she has, it would mean she’ll have another reason to contact Lauren once she’s back in Miami, so she doesn’t check too thoroughly.

On top of the stairs, just out of sight of everyone waiting for them, Lauren pauses and turns around so suddenly Camila almost bumps into her. “Wha—”

“Can I kiss you one more time?” Lauren asks, almost shyly.

Camila doesn’t say anything. She leans forward to meet Lauren’s lips halfway, squeezing her eyes shut to keep the tears from falling.

There’s no fire in their last kiss—just gentleness and a lot of unspoken _I love you_ s. Camila’s heart is beating out of her chest, and Lauren tastes like everything she’ll be craving for the rest of her life.

Lauren slips her hand into Camila’s. They walk down the stairs, together. Rob carries Camila’s suitcase to the car, and Briana tells them to hurry, before climbing into the front seat.

They’re in the doorway where Camila saw Lauren for the first time. And, just like seven days ago, she wraps her arms around Lauren, and pulls her closer. It still fits perfectly. They’re still made for each other. Except now it’s better, because she knows the girl she’s hugging. Now it’s better, because she’s in love with the girl she’s hugging. Now it’s better, because even though it’s just for a moment, Camila believes they’ll see each other again.

And then it’s over. Then, Camila walks down the path down to Lauren’s street one more time. Then she climbs into the car, and rolls down the window.

Lauren is in the doorway; a tiny figure compared to the house around her. She’s wearing her bravest smile, but even from a distance, Camila can see tears glistening in her eyes. They’re both crying—there’s no way they’re not.

Rob starts the engine, and every fiber in Camila’s body starts screaming at her to jump out of the car, to stay in LA with the girl she’s fallen in love with in less than a week. But she blinks as the tears roll down her face, and leans out the window to keep her eyes locked with Lauren’s for as long as possible.

She keeps looking at Lauren, until they turn the corner and there’s nothing to look at anymore.

 

For some miraculous reason, Camila manages not to cry until she’s seated between the window and a woman that fell asleep before the plane even took off.

They’re in the air now, and Camila is staring at the iPod Lauren gave her. Part of her wants to listen to whatever is on it, part of her isn’t sure she could handle it. She doesn’t want to flood the cabin with her tears and cause the plane to crash.

But in the end, she keeps her promise, and plugs in her earphones. The screen lights up when she touches it, and there’s one playlist called _Top secret!_

Camila presses play, and after a moment of static noise, a familiar sound floods through her earphones. It’s the song Lauren played for her producers in an attempt to be heard, and the song Camila not-so-accidentally listened to on the second night.

When it’s over and another song comes on, one Camila never heard before but one that’s undoubtedly written and recorded by Lauren, she realizes that the iPod is filled with songs Lauren wrote but that never made it to an album.

Lauren turned the iPod into a secret album, meant only for Camila’s ears.

It’s far from perfect. Some songs aren’t mixed a hundred percent right, and sometimes Lauren’s voice fails her for a moment or two, but Camila doesn’t care. She has something of Lauren—something that’s more precious than a band T-shirt or a kiss. Something that contains Lauren’s deepest thoughts and feelings; she has her music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks, it means so much. let me know your thoughts, feelings, emotions—anything. there's one more chapter left. don't forget to smile today.


	8. day 393

**@LaurenJauregui: _good morning miami! so excited to play my in my hometown tonight! who’s gonna be there?_**

 

Camila almost drops her phone when the door of her dorm room is thrown open and Dinah and Ally come charging in.

“Mila, time to wake up. We have a concert to attend,” Dinah nearly shouts.

Camila rolls her eyes. “I’ve been up for hours.” She runs her hand through her hair as Dinah plops down on her own bed, and Ally takes a seat next to Camila. “Guys, I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t think I want to go anymore.”

“Oh hell no. We’ve been saving up for this trip the entire month. You haven’t stopped talking about it for nearly three months. There’s no backing out now,” Dinah says, shaking her head. “If you don’t want to see Lauren you can just wear an eyepatch or something, but we’re going.”

Ally shoots her a look, giving Camila’s hand a soft squeeze. “Is there a particular reason you changed your mind all of the sudden?”

Camila, choosing to ignore Dinah, sighs. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go. We haven’t talked in months, and it just feels weird. Like I’m stalking her, or something.” The idea of seeing Lauren again after saying goodbye to her over a year ago also makes her heart feel heavy with dread, but she doesn’t say that.

“That’s bullshit,” Dinah says. “People are lining up in front of her hotel in hopes she’ll stop to take a picture with them. In comparison to them you’re not stalking her at all.”

“Yeah, well, other people weren’t almost in a relationship with her,” Camila snaps. “Other people didn’t have their heart broken by her. It still hurts to hear her music on the radio, or to see her tweets, or to just know she continues to exist without me. Maybe I’m just not over her yet, and maybe I’m not looking forward to spending ninety minutes in the same room as the girl I would’ve done anything for.”

She knows she’s out of line. Dinah and Ally have been nothing but supportive of her, and they brought her tons of ice cream after the falling out with Lauren, but still.

“I’m just saying that maybe it’s a good idea to see her again _because_ you haven’t spoken in so long. What if she’s just as miserable about it as you are? You two are, like, the most stubborn people in the world—neither of you is gonna talk to the other first, that much we’ve learned, so maybe being in the same room will help you talk it out,” Dinah shrugs. “I’m going either way. I want to see this Lauren Jauregui person my best friend’s been on about in person.”

Camila lets herself fall backwards on her bed with a groan, because Dinah is right. The only reason she hasn’t talked to Lauren is because she’s too stubborn to reach out, and if she’s learned anything it’s that Lauren is stubborn, too. She doesn’t even remember the details of their fight. All she remembers is the way she threw her phone across the room afterwards, and how she cried in Ally’s arms for weeks.

“I think Dinah’s right,” Ally says. “And even if we go, it doesn’t mean you’ll have to talk to her. There’s going to be thousands of people in that venue. If you don’t want her to notice you, she won’t. It can’t be that hard to blend in.”

“I hate it when you guys are right,” Camila sighs. “I also hate Lauren.”

Ally pats her leg. “You’ll see it’ll be a lot of fun. I’ve heard Lauren’s really good live.”

“She is. She could probably release an acoustic album and make the charts.” Camila lets it slip out before she can stop herself. Even now, when it hurts to say Lauren’s name, she still admires her more than anything. It’s the only reason she hasn’t deleted her fan account on Twitter yet.

Dinah lets out a dry laugh. “You’re whipped.”

“Fuck you.”

“What? It’s true. The only reason you didn’t bring your Lauren posters to college is because I said I’d draw moustaches on them while you were asleep.”

Camila rolls her eyes, even though it’s true. In retrospect it would’ve also been creepy to have posters of your almost-girlfriend on your walls of your college dorm room, but at the time it seemed like a great idea.

She hops off her bed and crosses the room to her closet. “What should I wear?”

“Something that’ll make Lauren’s panties drop,” Dinah suggests. “Then she’ll regret letting you go.”

“I hope she already regrets that,” Camila says softly. She catches sight of a worn-out black T-shirt in the back of the closet, and takes it out. “I should probably hand this back to her somehow. She said I could keep it until we saw each other again.”

“I doubt she wants it back when she hears it’d almost taken a permanent residence in your bed,” Dinah grins. “Or when she hears you pressed your face in it at least a million times just to see if it still smelled like her.”

“I don’t think you’re making it any better,” Ally says, to Camila’s relief. Dinah always had a hand of teasing her about Lauren, and most days she’s able to handle it. But today, when she’s going to see Lauren again after such a long time, she’s not sure she won’t slap Dinah across the face if she continues being like this.

Dinah huffs, pretending to be offended. “Whatever. I’m great at giving relationship advice.”

Camila chooses not to comment on the lack of romance in Dinah’s own life. Be the better person, or something.

She sighs and throws the shirt on her bed. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“You’ll be fine,” Ally says. “What’s the worst that could happen? You’re already not talking to each other. Worst case scenario: nothing changes after tonight, and you’ll never speak to her again, which is also what would happen if you don’t go at all. So really, there’s only good things to come from this.”

“I’m just not sure she wants me there. She told me to just leave her alone last time we talked. Going to her concert isn’t exactly leaving her alone.”

“In her defense, you did tell her she didn’t try hard enough to spend time talking to you. You said a lot of things that were pretty hurtful,” Dinah chips in. Then she looks at Ally and bites her lip. “Right, not helping.”

“I just wanted her to be the person she was in LA,” Camila says in a soft tone. “Standing up for herself, making great music, being kind to other people. I was worried she was losing that part of herself again.”

“She was busy. She didn’t forget about you. You were just being paranoid.”

“Dinah, you’re still not helping,” Ally says.

“I’m just stating the truth,” Dinah sighs, letting herself fall backwards on her bed. “Just figure out something to wear, Mila. You’ll be fine.”

Camila shifts her gaze from Dinah to Ally, and back to her closet. Dinah _is_ right. She’d let her anxiety and paranoia take over when it came to Lauren. Every time Lauren’s social media accounts were active but Lauren didn’t text her back, she’d thought she didn’t care about her anymore, even if it were just promotional posts that were obviously not made by Lauren herself. And Lauren always sent her good morning and good night texts, no matter how busy she got, or when those mornings and nights occurred for her. Lauren had really kept her promise—to keep trying. But in the last few weeks before their fall-out things had been hard. Camila didn’t trust Lauren anymore, and Lauren was too busy with work to fully focus on Camila. Multiple times she’d fallen asleep on Skype, if she even made it to her computer, and she’d just generally been distant because of other things that were going on—like her second album coming out and doing promotional work.

It was bound to go wrong at some point, and Camila had chosen the worst possible moment to let her fear take over. Lauren had just done a series of interviews about her new album back to back, and wanted to rant about stupid questions on the phone. But Camila wanted to talk about their relationship and how they still hadn’t defined anything as real. They’d been acting like a couple for months now, but never made it official, and it was driving her crazy. One thing led to another, and soon they were screaming at each other and there was some throwing of things on either side of the line. And then Lauren said she was done, that she couldn’t have two things going on at once; that Camila had to leave her alone.

Camila did. By now, they haven’t spoken in nearly five months, and Camila isn’t sure they ever will again. Despite what Dinah and Ally keep telling her, she’s not sure what she did is reversible. The way Lauren’s voice broke in that final goodbye—it still haunts her every night. Everything about that fight haunts her every night. If she’d just waited one more night, things would still be okay. She’d still be talking to Lauren, maybe even have a different relationship status on Facebook, and she’d spend her day looking forward to seeing the show tonight instead of dreading it.

There’s a hand on her arm, and Camila looks up to see Ally standing next to her.

“You’re going to be fine,” she says. “It’s been a long time. Maybe things have changed.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Camila forces a smile. “We’ll just have to see, I guess.”

 

**camilacabello97: _waiting until the venue opens its doors for the concert tonight. not sure my mortal body is ready for this_**

Camila taps tweet, and leans her head on Dinah’s shoulder. They’ve been here for about an hour or so now, and there’s still thirty minutes to go until the doors open. Contrary to what she always promised herself they’re not front rowing the concert; they’ve got seats on the side of the stage, next to the standing area. When the tickets went on sale, they did their best to get the best tickets, but so did everyone else. It’s still not a bad place to be—and this way Ally will be able to see something, too.

“Mila, drink something or you’ll pass out,” Ally says, handing her a bottle of water. The heat is still blazing, and even though Camila hasn’t been able to really eat or drink anything, she takes a few sips anyway. Turns out food is hard to keep down when you’re more nervous than ever.

“ _I’m_ gonna pass out if they don’t hurry up,” Dinah complains, leaning her head on top of Camila’s. “I hope they have air conditioning in this place.”

Camila checks her Twitter again. Even though the contest was over a year ago, and she’s not as active as she used to be, she still has a large following. People just never seemed to unfollow her, and they still wanted insight on Lauren’s life.

Before their falling out, there were a few rumors about them dating on social media. They wanted to shoot them down, but Lauren’s publicist had convinced them to ignore them. Sometimes she still saw the infamous ‘camren’ tweets, but most of it had died down after they stopped tweeting each other as much in public. There were just too many cons and too little pros.

She scrolls through her mentions. A bunch of people who are also at the concert are tweeting her to see where in line she is exactly—about a hundred people in front of them and many more behind them—and others are just saying they’re jealous of how she’s going to the concert and they’re not.

“People still want to know if I kept in touch with Zayn,” she says, showing a few tweets to Dinah and Ally. “It’s like they think I’m some insider for everything Lauren Jauregui and Zayn Malik, just because I spent some time with them in LA.”

“You do still talk to Zayn,” Dinah points out. “I heard you giggling on the phone the other night.”

“Our conversations are purely platonic. He’s just a friend,” Camila retorts. “I’ve never been interested in him like that, and you know it.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still giggle at something he says.” Dinah shrugs, bumping the side of Camila’s head with her shoulders. Camila rolls her eyes and takes a step away from Dinah in case she decides to also break her jaw in the process.

She turns her attention back to her phone. There’s a few new DMs, and one—

“Guys, Normani just sent me a text. She wants to know where we are.”

Ally frowns. “What do you mean?”

Camila shuts down Dinah’s attempt to start singing by clasping her hand over her mouth, showing her phone to Ally. “She’s one of Lauren’s backup dancers on this tour. I guess she saw my tweet.” Her eyes widen. “What if she told Lauren I’m here? Oh my god, I should’ve never sent that tweet. What if they’re laughing at us or—”

Dinah pulls away Camila’s hand. “Breathe, Walz. Breathe. Normani is not the same person as Lauren. Just because Normani saw a tweet doesn’t mean Lauren did, too.”

“Except Mani is Lauren’s best friend, and best friends share this kind of information with each other,” Camila says. She tries to keep her voice down as much as possible, because there are fans of Lauren all around them, and none of them know what went down between them. But her throat is thick with anxiety, and it’s hard to keep herself under control.

“Just say where we are. The damage is already done, all you can do is be polite and reply,” Ally chips in. “Who knows what she’s up to.”

Camila’s pretty sure she knows what Normani is up to, but there’s a truth in Ally’s words. If Normani told Lauren she’s here, it doesn’t matter if she replies. For all she knows Lauren already saw the tweet herself.

“I said, ‘Left of the doors, you’ll see Dinah sticking out.’ Think that’ll work?”

“I’m not that tall,” Dinah scoffs. “There’s plenty of people who are taller than me.”

“I think it works,” Ally nods.

Camila sends the text. “If tonight doesn’t work out I’m deleting my Twitter.”

“Rather not, then you’d talk to us about Lauren even more.”

“Shut up, Dinah.”

“I’m just saying—”

“No, seriously, shut up. Mani is calling.” Camila swipes her screen to pick up the phone, giving Dinah a stern look. “Hey.”

“Hey. Can you lean to your left and wave, or something? I’m trying to find you guys, but it’s hard because there are a lot of people taller than Dinah.”

Camila doesn’t know why, but she feels a rush when she hears Normani’s voice. She’s tried to keep in touch with her after she stopped talking to Lauren, but as it turns out, talking to the best friend of someone who broke your heart is harder than it seems.

“Sure, hang on.” She hangs up the phone, leans over the iron barricade as far as she can, and waves her arm up and down. There’s some static on the other side of the line, and the sound of a door opening. And then she sees Normani in a half open door, beckoning.

“Mani wants to talk to me, I think,” she says, subtly nodding her head in Normani’s direction.

“Then go to talk to her. We’ll save you a spot.” Ally gently pushes Camila towards the barricade.

“What if Lauren’s with her?” Camila objects. “I haven’t even decided if I want to see her or not.”

“Then make a decision when it comes to it.” Without waiting for a reply, Dinah lifts Camila off the ground, leaving her no choice but to climb over the barricade.

“I hate you guys,” she sighs, but Dinah and Ally just wave her off.

Camila quickly moves towards Normani, knowing that if too many fans see her Lauren will definitely know she’s here. Fortunately, when she enters the half open door that leads to a dimly lit corridor, the only other person standing there is Normani.

“Mila!” Normani grins, wrapping her arms around Camila. She’s already wearing her outfit for stage, and her hair and makeup is done. “I’ve missed you.”

Camila hugs her back, surprised at how happy she is to see Normani again. “I’ve missed you, too.”

When they pull back, Normani glances over Camila from top to bottom. “You look great.”

“Thanks. You do, too.” Camila gestures at Normani’s everything with a grin. “What’s it like living on the road?”

Normani laughs. “It’s great, actually. I love it. Everyone is really nice, and Lauren arranged for me to sleep on her bus, so there’s no sharing my space with people I don’t know.”

At the mention of Lauren’s name, Camila’s face falls. It’s been a while since she heard it being said in such a light tone, and it hits her harder than she expected. She tries not to address it, but Normani’s concerned look and her curiosity get the best of her.

“How is she?”

Normani gives her a soft smile. “She’s doing better. It was hard for a while, but she’s getting there. I think she’s excited about being home. The tour manager planned a couple days off after tonight’s show, so she’ll be going home to spend time with her family, and stuff.”

It’s a relief, Camila realizes. Maybe she’s been giving herself too much credit, but every time she thought of Lauren after their falling out, she pictured her being completely heartbroken and back to her old self again. “I’m glad she’s okay.”

Normani’s eyes narrow in concern. “Does she know you’re here?”

Camila shakes her head. “Not unless you told her.”

“Guess she doesn’t know, then.” Normani bites her lip. “I didn’t want to bother her, since, you know, she’s been doing better. It’s still hard for her, you know? She misses you a lot.”

Camila’s heart makes a backflip. “What?”

“I mean, you know how she is. She doesn’t like to talk about her feelings, but I know. There’s just something about her that’s been off since you two broke up. Like, she’s—”

“Wait,” Camila interrupts. “Broke up? We weren’t officially together.”

Normani’s lips form an O. “I just assumed…She called you her girlfriend, so I figured—shit. Really?”

“Oh my god.” Camila pinches the bridge of her nose. “She thought we were dating. I really fucked this up. I’m—holy shit.”

Normani glances up to her with a guilty look in her eyes. “I don’t know what she thought. Like I said, she just called you her girlfriend, and—”

“Girlfriend means dating,” Camila groans. “We never even confirmed anything. That’s why we got into a fight in the first place—I wanted to make things official, but she was too busy to have a good talk about it.”

“I guess she already thought you were official,” Normani says. “This is really fucked up. I think you should talk to her. There’s clearly been a misunderstanding, and the two of you have been miserable for months because of it.”

Camila’s eyes snap up. “I’m pretty sure even just seeing her would make me want to dig my own grave out of embarrassment.”

Before either of them can say anything else, Normani’s phone goes off. She glances down at the screen. “I have to get back. But tell you what—if you change your mind about seeing Lauren, send me a text and I’ll get you backstage. Your friends can come, too, if they want. Just send me a text, okay? Lauren doesn’t hate you, I promise.”

Not knowing what else to do, Camila nods. “I’ll let you know what we’re up to. Good luck tonight, break a leg.”

“I’d rather not,” Normani grins. She gives Camila another hug. “Hopefully I’ll see you tonight after the show. It would mean a lot to Lauren to know you still care about her.”

It’s not until Normani has dashed off and Camila is walking back to where Dinah and Ally are waiting for her that she realizes she never said she still cares about Lauren. Perhaps some things are just too obvious to hide.

 

“I don’t think I can do this,” Camila says. “Now that I know Lauren thought we were in a relationship, I just—”

“You can’t face her and tell her you didn’t. We know. You’ve said that only just about a million times today,” Dinah finishes her sentence. “Calm your tits, you don’t have to make a decision yet. Just let us enjoy the show.”

“She means to wait it out and see what happens. Maybe something will change between now and the end of the show,” Ally says from Camila’s other side. “In my opinion you should go talk to her, because both of you lived with two very different ideas for months, and I’m pretty sure she’ll forgive you once you explain yourself. I’ve seen how heartbroken you were, Mila. You need closure, or Lauren, and you’ll get neither of those until you talk to her.”

Dinah holds out her fist for a fist bump. “Literally everything Ally just said. I’m on Ally’s side with this. Stop being stupid and go after your girl.”

Camila buries her face in her hands. In a few minutes the show will start, and Lauren will walk up on stage, completely unknowing. If she’s not even sure she’s able to handle that, how the fuck do people expect her to go backstage and talk to her afterwards?

 _Go after your girl_ sounds easier than it is.

She doesn’t have much time to contemplate. Before she’s able to make a decision, the lights are dimmed and the crowd starts screaming.

Lauren’s band comes up and as everyone grabs their instrument, a black and white video of Lauren in the recording studio starts playing. Her voice fills the room.

“ _With this album, I wanted something different. The sound is more mature, I think. The lyrics are definitely more mature. It took me a long time to realize what I was looking for in my music, and I think this is the closest I’ve come to finding it yet._ ”

As soon as the video fades to black, the band starts playing the opening song of the album. It’s one of the songs Camila has on the iPod, and she still can’t believe it made it to the album. Something changed after the contest. More of Lauren’s own material was approved and recorded professionally, and while some songs are clearly still written by other people, there are a few ones that only have one name in the credits.

The first time Camila heard the album, she couldn’t help but think some of those songs were about her. Dark brown eyes, passionate kisses, accidentally falling asleep together… All the signs were there, and it was only on songs Lauren had written herself. Maybe she was just delusional, but still. Dinah and Ally had told her they’d noticed it, too.

Camila has no idea where Lauren came from, but when the spotlights turn on, she’s on stage, already belting out the first chorus.

Everyone around her explodes, including Dinah and Ally who jump up from their seats to get a better view, but Camila freezes.

Lauren’s stage makeup is heavy. Her lips are bright red, demanding attention, and for a moment her mouth is the only thing Camila can look at.

Seeing Lauren again after all this time is messy. Camila wants to laugh and cry at the same time, and she instinctively reaches out to hold her. But Lauren’s far away on stage, and Camila isn’t the only one trying to get her attention.

After the initial flow of overwhelming emotions, she starts enjoying the set a little more. The show is large and extravagant, and it’s clear the label put a lot of effort into making this one of the best ones of this year.

The dancers are phenomenal, too. Normani and another girl are joined by two guys, and even in just the first song they have some complicated routines. Camila has seen Normani dance before, but not like this.

“What’s up Miami?” Lauren shouts into her microphone, pointing at the audience to record their screams. She grins, wide and genuine. “I’m honestly so excited for tonight’s show. As many of you may know, Miami is my hometown, and I miss it very much when I’m in LA. Being back here is always great, and Florida fans are honestly one of the best.” The crowd goes crazy at that, and Lauren’s grin widens. “This next song is for you.”

 

For the rest of the show, Camila tries to forget about her complicated relationship with Lauren, and jumps out of her seat to join in with the singing and dancing and chanting of Lauren’s name. It’s hard not to with this crowd.

Every now and then, Lauren says a few things between songs, but most of it is just music back to back, with the exception of the set break.

“Are you having fun?” Ally asks as they fall back into their seats to catch their breath.

“I am,” Camila replies. She’s almost surprised at how easy it is to set aside her personal feelings concerning Lauren, but up on that stage isn’t _her_ Lauren. Not really. As much as Lauren started incorporating her own life into her music, there’s still a difference between Lauren as Camila got to know her and Lauren Jauregui, the artist.

“I’m glad,” Ally smiles. She looks at Dinah. “What about you?”

Dinah needs a few moments to reply because she’s taking a selfie, but then she grins. “Me? I’m thriving. This concert is almost the best I’ve been to, with the exception of my girl Beyoncé, of course.”

“Of course,” Ally and Camila say in unison.

The set break doesn’t last too long. There’s just enough time for people to use the bathroom and find their way back to their seats, or for others to catch their breath.

Soon enough the lights are dimmed again, and the show continues.

The second half is even better than the first. Lauren sings the two only ballads on her album, and for about three minutes the entire audience keeps their mouths shut. It’s almost magical, seeing the first lighter surface, but within a minute everyone has their phone or lighter up in the air—Camila included.

There’s a moment where she’s ninety-nine percent sure Lauren looks directly at her, and she starts to wave, but then the moment is over and Lauren continues singing like nothing happened, so Camila concludes Lauren didn’t see her. She’s positive there would’ve been at least one sign, and right now there’s none.

“Did you see that?” she says to Ally, but she’s met with a questioning look and decides to drop it. But for the rest of the show, she can’t get the image out of her mind.

The memory of Lauren has been haunting her for months now, but this is different. This is recent. And, even if Lauren didn’t _really_ see her, Camila still chooses to take this as a sign.

Normani does see her. It happens fast and if Camila had blinked she would’ve missed it, but the flash of recognition on Normani’s face is apparent, and she almost breaks routine because of it. The next time she looks their way, Camila gives her a shy wave and a nod she isn’t sure Normani sees.

At the end of the show, the lights stay dimmed. The venue buzzes with excitement—no other city got an encore, but it’s obvious Miami is an exception.

A grand piano is rolled on stage, and the crowd goes wild at the sight. They’re still screaming when Lauren walks out of the wings, a shy smile on her lips. She waves at a few people in the audience, and then takes a seat behind the piano. She places the microphone in a standard so she has both hands free to play, and takes a deep breath. “I love you, Miami.”

When she starts playing, Camila feels tears fill her eyes. Lauren’s playing their song.

After she left LA, the first song on the iPod became her safe haven. She’d listen to it when she missed Lauren, and when she told Lauren about it, they both cried a little. Lauren even asked her permission to put it on the album, because it was so sacred to the both of them, and she was the first person to hear the studio version of the song.

And, because it’s their song, Lauren never plays it live.

By the end of the second verse, Camila has tears streaming down her face. She’s never missed Lauren as much as she does in this moment. It feels like an invisible tether is pulling her heart towards the stage, towards Lauren.

On her right, Ally hisses, “Dinah,” before two sets of arms are wrapped around her, and she buries her face in Ally’s shoulder like so many times before.

Three minutes seem to turn into ten, but when Lauren plays the final chords, Camila’s not ready for it to be over.

Across the room, Lauren gets up and takes a final bow. She raises the microphone to her lips and, almost breathless, mumbles a thank you to the crowd. She gives them one last wave, and then disappears between the wings.

The lights turn on. The piano is pushed off stage. The crowd starts to file away. But Camila’s still frozen in her seat, staring at the spot that just held Lauren.

“Give me your phone,” Dinah says.

Camila blinks. “What?”

“I’m texting Normani. We’re not leaving here until you and Lauren kissed and made up. She clearly played that song because she wanted you to know she misses you. You miss her, she misses you—it’s time you two stop pretending it’s over.”

“Dinah…” Ally says in a low tone. “This isn’t your decision.”

“No, Dinah’s right,” Camila says, finally unfreezing. She takes out her phone and unlocks the screen. Her hands are shaking so bad it takes her three tries to write a text to Normani, but when she sends it, she’s relieved.

“I told you,” Dinah says, shrugging, earning another dark look from Ally.

For once, Camila can’t bring herself to tell her off for being a smartass. In a few minutes, she’s going to see Lauren again. After all this time, she’ll finally be able to apologize for being such an idiot.

Her phone buzzes. **_go down to the main area, i’m sending someone to pick you up :)_**

She repeats the message to Dinah and Ally. Her entire body is shaking when she stands up, and she has to grab Ally’s arm in order not to fall over. Going to see Lauren with a broken nose wouldn’t be the best idea.

“Holy shit,” she mumbles as they walk down to the main area where the last fans are leaving the venue. “I’m gonna pass out.”

“You won’t,” Ally says, and it sounds like a demand and a reassurance at the same time.

They hang around for so long a few people of the venue are starting to shoot them looks, but Camila doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about anything right now, except the fact that she’s going to see Lauren again.

Finally, after what feels like forever, Normani seemingly appears out of nowhere. She’s still in her outfit from the show, but she’s also wearing a hoodie now. There’s a large grin on her face and she pulls Camila into a hug before anyone gets to say anything.

“I thought you were sending someone,” Camila says.

“Security was being an ass, so I decided to get you myself.” She looks at Dinah and Ally, and waves at both of them. “Hi, I’m Normani.”

Dinah and Ally introduce themselves, and Camila wants to scream because Lauren’s so close but so far away, but it doesn’t take too long.

Normani shows them a door that leads backstage, and tells them to ignore everyone who tries to kick them out. “Just say you’re with me. I would’ve stolen a few backstage passes for you, but I was in a hurry because Lauren usually doesn’t want to stay in the venue too long.”

Camila’s eyes widen. “You mean she might’ve already left?”

“No, I told her to wait for me.”

Normani leads them through a bunch of corridors and up two flights of stairs, before they enter an area that’s filled with people. She gestures at them to be fast, and then dashes across the room. Camila, Dinah, and Ally follow in her footsteps, making it into another corridor without anyone questioning their presence.

“These are the dressing rooms,” Normani says. She taps a door. “This is mine. Lauren’s is at the end of the hall. Her family already left, so I’m pretty sure she’s alone. If not that’ll suck and I’ll have to punch someone in the face to get them out.”

“I’ll help you,” Dinah says, and the two of them fist bump.

Normani explains something about the other dressing rooms, but Camila doesn’t hear a word of it. Her heart is beating against her chest, and she can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

“Okay, this is Lauren’s dressing room,” Normani says, knocking on the door.

Camila swallows. This is it. In a few minutes she’s gonna know if Lauren hates her or not. Her nerves skyrocket, and her knees almost buckle at the thought.

“Mani, is that you?” a familiar voice says.

Normani sticks her head inside. “You have a visitor.”

A pause. Then, “Who?”

Normani steps aside and gestures at Camila to come forward. Camila does as she’s asked, positive her legs are gonna give out any moment now. She closes her eyes for a moment, then pushes the door open. “Hi.”

A few things happen at once: Lauren’s eyes widen, confusion flashes on her face, and then she’s in front of Camila.

“Holy shit,” she whispers. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” Camila answers weakly. “Is that okay?”

Lauren doesn’t reply immediately. She just stares at Camila with disbelief in her eyes. Her jaw clenches, and for a moment Camila thinks she’s made a mistake, but then Lauren takes a step forward and wraps her arms around her neck. “I missed you, Camz.”

Camila instinctively hugs her back. She buries her face in her shoulder, closes her eyes, takes in Lauren’s scent; she’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's a wrap! i want to thank everyone who read this until the final chapter—whether you've been reading from the start or tuned in yesterday. i never expected this to do as well as it did. special thanks to all those who left kudos/commented; i saw it all and i read every comment. it honestly means so much to know that people found this worthy of their time. don't forget to smile today.
> 
> [tumblr](http://theperfectsin.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/mindoflauren) | [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/youmeandem)


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